


Oblivion

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 501, Episode 503, Episode 505, Episode 506, Episode 508, Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, episode 502, episode 504, episode 507, episode 509, episode 510, episode 511, episode 512, episode 513, episode 514, episode 515, episode 516, episode 517, episode 518, episode 519, episode 520, episode 521, episode 522, episode 523, episode 524, episode 525
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 5 coda series - think of it as Season 5 canon with a twist. Each chapter is for an episode, and they all work together to form a story of their own along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I learned my lesson with last year's series, so this year's series will be all contained in chapters in one story, instead of separate fics. Hopefully I can make it through the whole season with one series again! Thanks for all the kind words last season, and all the encouragement over the summer to do it again--hope you enjoy it just as much!
> 
> Huge thanks to smudegirl for her cheerleading and editing help! :)

Steve made his way slowly through the yard to the chairs by the beach. Danny was already seated, looking far too still as he stared out at the moonlight dancing on the waves. Whether it was exhaustion or reaction to the case, Steve wasn't sure--probably both. 

He sat down next to Danny, putting the six pack of Longboards on the table between them, pulling out one and taking the top off before handing it to Danny, who took it without looking. Steve opened one for himself, watching Danny's face, as still as the rest of him.

"You okay?" Steve asked finally.

Danny shrugged. Steve knew it was a stupid question--the case had ended up being easy enough to solve, but the memory of walking into the scene early that morning and seeing two little girls, one of them in Grace's class, dead and bloody and on display made Steve's stomach turn.

He knew it had to be a hundred times worse for Danny.

"At least we solved it quickly," Steve said. 

"I hope that bastard rots in hell," Danny said, before taking a long draw off his beer. Steve had looked the other way when Danny had taken the guy out, and if he'd gotten an extra punch or two in, nobody would ever hear about it from Steve. 

"He will," Steve said, because he believed it, even if Danny professed not to. And most prison inmates were notoriously tough on criminals who'd done anything even remotely like this guy. "And probably soon."

"Good."

Steve took a long drink, still watching Danny, searching for a way to distract Danny from the dark thoughts Steve could practically see going through his head. "Did you talk to Grace?"

Danny nodded. "She called from cheer camp a little bit ago," he said. "I'm supposed to call her in the morning before we go to that thing."

'That thing' being their joint therapy session, which Steve was not looking forward to. "I still don't see why we have to go," Steve said. "We've already done our individual reviews. Why do we have to go in together?"

"Maybe she realized that you need so, so much help," Danny said.

Something in the way he said it was a little off, but Steve couldn't put his finger on what. "If that's true, she must think it about both of us, because you're stuck with it too."

Danny muttered something that Steve couldn't hear. "What?" Steve asked. When he muttered it again, Steve twisted in his seat, leaning closer. "Sorry, what?"

"I said," Danny replied, louder and with a resigned tone that made Steve think he might not like the rest of it, "maybe she thinks you and I don't know how to communicate."

Steve played that back in his head, but no, still the same words. "And where might she have gotten that impression?" Steve asked. "We communicate just fine."

"Oh, we do?" Danny turned in his chair to mostly face Steve. "Really? We do? Because if that's true, when I say 'I'd like to drive my own car,' why is it you always hear 'Please, Steven, drive my car! I hate driving!'?"

Steve stared at him for a long moment. "Just what, exactly, did you tell her, Danny?"

"I might've mentioned that you were a little bit of a control freak."

"A little bit of a control freak?"

"Okay," Danny said, eyes dropping down to his beer. "A giant, overbearing control freak who runs roughshod over everyone and everything to get his own way?"

Steve stared some more. He opened his mouth, then closed it again before getting up and pacing across the sand a few times, stopping right in front of Danny. "You are aware that this woman holds the key to us keeping our jobs, right?"

"Yes."

"And you are aware that if she thinks we're not fit for duty, that means we have no jobs?"

Danny waved a hand dismissively. "It wouldn't come to that."

"It wouldn't? I know a couple of people formerly in the Navy who might say otherwise. Note that 'formerly' there, Danny."

"This isn't the Navy," Danny said. "A fact you seem to constantly forget."

"I--" Steve stood there with his mouth open for a few seconds. "I am well aware this isn't the Navy," he said finally. "If it was, you'd have been court-martialed for insubordination years ago."

Danny laughed. "No, see, I wouldn't have, because they'd have court-martialed you for it before they got to me."

"So what else did you tell this shrink?"

"Just that you don't listen."

Steve blinked at him. "I don't listen?"

"No, you don't listen, okay? You don't!"

"Danny, all I do is listen. All day, you talk, you bitch about everything, and I listen!"

Danny pushed up out of his seat, getting up in Steve's space. "You listen, huh? You're gonna go with that?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go with that."

"Okay, then, explain to me why the other day I told you that Grace rode a purple elephant and did a triple backflip off it and you said 'cool.'" 

"What? When the hell did you say that?"

Danny's grin was triumphant, and really annoying. "See? You don't listen!"

"Well, great, now I guess I'll have to listen because you've put us both in front of a shrink so I have no choice!"

"Good, then maybe some of what I say will get through that thick, GI Joe skull!"

The last words were punctuated with a finger jab to Steve's chest. He grabbed Danny's wrist instinctively, ready to take him down in a move reminiscent of their first day together. He stopped, though, holding Danny's wrist trapped against Steve's chest, staring down at Danny, who was right there, so close, and suddenly looking just like what Steve needed after the day he'd had.

The day they'd both had, he reminded himself, which was the only explanation for what happened next. Steve leaned down, taking Danny's mouth in a hard, driving kiss. After a moment of being completely frozen, Danny got on board, kissing him back, pulling his hand out from between them to wrap his arms around Steve and pull him closer.

Some part of Steve's brain piped up with a red flag warning, and he told it to fuck off. He was no stranger to this kind of reaction after a bad day on the job, and Danny didn't exactly seem like he was a stranger to it either, not by the way he was unzipping Steve's fly and pulling out his dick. Sometimes the job made you angry, and you channeled that anger in different ways.

This just happened to be a more pleasurable way than, say, breaking your hand on a brick wall.

Steve managed to get Danny's fly undone and his pants out of the way enough that his dick was free. He pulled Danny closer, their mouths still practically fused together, trying to get their hips to line up, but it was no use. 

_Horizontal_ his brain supplied. Yes, right, horizontal. That would solve the height thing. He dragged Danny down to the sand, somehow managing not to injure either of them or stop kissing. Because he was pretty sure one of them, at least, would come to his senses if they stopped kissing and this had gone too far to hit sanity until it was done. 

They went down on their sides, but Steve rolled until Danny was under him, finally, lined up just right, their cocks bumping against each other as they moved their hips. They were in sync, as always, driving hard and fast towards a release that came much faster than part of Steve's brain he wasn't listening to would have liked. 

He spared a moment to catch his breath before rolling onto his back, his arm pressed up against Danny's. The stars were bright, and he had a fleeting memory of lying out on this same beach every night for weeks after his mother died, staring at the same view.

But not quite like this. 

Danny sat up, looking down at Steve, his face hidden in the shadows. "So, um...that was, uh...."

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, trying to pretend he was just relaxing, and that his ass wasn't buried naked in the sand, and his dick wasn't hanging out to dry. "It happens," he said, pausing to clear his throat. "Rough day, looking for some way to affirm life, all that."

"That's, uh, deep," Danny said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Maybe you should lead our little couples therapy session tomorrow." 

Steve laughed at the thought. "But that would mean I'd have to listen, right?"

Danny's laughter was quiet, and faded quickly. "I know you listen," he said softly. "When it's important."

The quiet sincerity warmed Steve's heart. "I do."

Danny sniffed. "Okay, I'm gonna, uh, go home," he said, standing up, doing up his pants. "Take a shower, dig sand out of places it has no business going, all that."

He didn't sound upset about it, but it was hitting Steve that Danny might not have the same perspective on it he did, and that he wasn't really sure where Danny and Amber stood these days, either. Steve jumped to his feet, grabbing Danny's arm as he turned to go. "We're okay, right?" Steve said.

"When aren't we?" Danny said, one eyebrow raised. "Despite your penchant for driving my car, ordering me around, taking over my life--"

"All right, I get it," Steve said with a laugh. "Save the rest for therapy." 

"Yeah, though I think I'll leave this," he waved a hand at the beach, "out of it."

"Hey, look, you can learn!"

Danny smacked him on the arm. "I'll see you in the morning, asshole."

Steve watched him go, staring after him for a long time before picking up the beer and going into the house.

***

Steve tested the dressing on his leg, wondering if he could walk out of the hospital on his own. He'd walked around on much worse, after all. He put his feet down and stood, pleased to see that the dressing was wrapped tight enough to support the injured muscles, and it would hold his weight.

He wasn't sure how comfortable it would be when the painkillers wore off, but again, he'd dealt with worse.

"What the hell are you doing?" Danny asked as he walked through the curtain, letting it drop behind him.

"I'm standing here."

Danny took the few steps to the bed, half-pushing, half-supporting Steve as he lowered him back onto the bed. "You do realize that the doctor's last orders to you were, and I quote, 'Stay off that leg, Commander'?" Danny said. "I leave for five minutes to get your clothes and you're ready to do jumping jacks?"

"Danny, relax. I wasn't going to do jumping jacks. I was just seeing how tight the dressing was."

Danny rolled his eyes. "So you could do jumping jacks."

"I promise you, there will be no jumping jacks, all right?"

"Sure. Whatever." Danny tossed the bag onto the bed beside him. "Here. You're so healed, you can get yourself dressed, right?"

Steve pulled out his board shorts and a t-shirt that had been in the trunk of the Camaro, and were, mercifully, free of bullet holes. "Thanks." 

He managed the t-shirt well enough, but when it was time to exchange the scrub pants for his shorts, he found it too hard to bend his leg up. "I think I need some help," he said, hating the words, but hating them a little less when he said them to Danny than just about anyone else. 

"Wow, you mind if I record you saying that before I help?"

"Are you going to help me, or are you going to be an ass?"

Danny seemed to consider that for a moment. "I can't do both?"

"You excel at doing both."

"You're awfully mouthy for someone who wants my help," Danny said, but he was smiling, and he was already easing the scrubs over Steve's wound and down his legs. Steve had to bite his lip as Danny pulled the shorts up over his hips, Danny's wrist brushing Steve's dick as the fabric covered it, Danny's body so close Steve could smell him. 

It wasn't a big deal. He'd enjoyed the night before--it had been a while since he'd any release that didn't involve his right hand. And after the day they'd had, he'd be up for it again, but he wasn't getting a sense that Danny would.

He'd really have to ask Danny about Amber some time, when the chance presented itself. 

"There," Danny said, taking a step back from the bed as he cleared his throat. "You're ready to go. Unless you need to wait for the doctor?"

Steve shook his head. "Signed the release a few minutes ago," he said, holding up the papers. 

"Let me guess. He also gave you some information on taking care of yourself that you're going to completely ignore."

"I've had gunshot wounds before, Danny. I know how to deal with them."

"Whatever." Danny took the papers, folding them up and stuffing them in his back pocket. Steve wondered idly if Danny would be over at his house later, reading the instructions out loud to get Steve to comply. "Let's go." 

He ducked out of the curtain. Steve had taken three steps when Danny reappeared, pushing a wheelchair. "Oh, no," Steve said, holding up his hands. "I can walk."

"Either you get in this chair, or you stay here," Danny said. 

As he was blocking Steve's exit, and could probably take Steve if he surprised him, given the injury, Steve thought he might be right. But he still hesitated. "Seriously, Danny, I can walk out of here."

"Steven. Get your ass in the chair." Danny's lips curved up. "After all, who wouldn't want to be driven around all the time, right?"

 _Fuck_. He couldn't really argue with his own words. Well, he could, but he supposed there were worse things than Danny pushing him out to the car. Steve lowered himself gingerly into the chair without another word. He endured the ribbing from his team, hearing the concern and relief beneath the words, as they walked out of the hospital.

He was content to listen to their banter as they walked him out to the car, his ears perking up when Danny was asking about Shaw. He really did need to find out about him and Amber, if Danny was asking about other women. A good friend should know these things. 

He was wondering how he was going to get into the Camaro, when they walked up to Jerry's van. Made sense, it would be a lot easier to get into, and he appreciated the gesture. 

When Danny said he wasn't coming, though, Steve was a little surprised. He'd half-expected him to come along and make sure Steve behaved to the letter of the instructions, still in Danny's pocket. 

Except Grace was due home this afternoon, and Danny needed to get the car taken care of and be there for her, Steve realized. That made sense. It had nothing to do with Danny being uncomfortable about what had happened. 

Steve settled into the back of the minivan, ignoring that nagging feeling at the back of his head. He'd give Danny a call later and everything would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Danny watched, helpless, as Reyes get into his lawyer's car and they drove off. The smug fucker just casually mentioned he had Matt and then drove off, like Danny couldn't find him and put a bullet in his head if he wanted.

Except then he wouldn't find Matt.

Assuming the asshole actually had him and wasn't just bluffing. Hell, this was Matt. For all Danny knew, Matt could be working with the guy and hoping Danny would just track down a pile of money for both of them.

The fact that he even had to consider that as a possibility made Danny's stomach threaten to return what little was left of his dinner. He needed to find out if there had been any sightings of Matt, if there was any way this might be true. And he needed a plan.

And someone to keep him from tracking down Reyes and making the stunt with Bastille on the hood of Danny's Camaro look like child's play.

He got into his car and made a straight line for Steve's.

Steve was on the couch when Danny walked in. He looked up, frowning, as Danny walked over to the edge of the coffee table, and just stared at him. "What happened?" Steve asked, frown turning to worry, as Steve put his beer on the table and leaned forward. "Did something happen with Grace?"

"No, she's fine," Danny said, "though I sent a patrol car over to keep an eye on Rachel's place tonight, just in case."

"Reyes?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "Bail came through, and I was there when he got out." The scene played through his mind again, anger flowing through him once more.

"Danny?"

"Sorry. He..." Danny took a deep breath. "He says he has Matt. And that I'll never see him if I don't find that eighteen and a half million."

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again for a brief second before speaking. "Are you sure he has Matt?"

The question was too careful, and Danny got the meaning just fine. "No, I'm not sure, and no, I'm not sure Matt isn't working with him, either." 

"I didn't say--"

"You didn't have to. And it had already crossed my mind." The half laugh that forced its way out of Danny's throat hurt as he dropped down onto the couch. "How's that for a big brother, huh?" he said, picking up Steve's beer and downing it. "I'm sitting here wondering if my brother's life is in danger, or if he's colluding with the major criminal who's telling me it is."

He knew that particular tone of Steve's heavy sigh, even before he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder. "Does it matter either way?"

There was that laugh again, cutting at Danny's throat. "No. I gotta do what I gotta do, right?" He lifted his head to meet Steve's eyes, feeling a little better knowing he wasn't alone. "I need to find out first, though, if Reyes might really have him--whether he's there by choice or not--before I decide what to do next."

"Give me a few minutes," Steve said, getting up and pulling out his phone. "Let me make a couple of calls."

He gave Danny's shoulder one last squeeze before going out on to the lanai. Danny sat there drinking the beer and watching the baseball game Steve had left on the TV, focusing on the motion and the monotonous commentary without having a single clue what was going on by the time Steve came back. 

He'd brought the rest of the six pack, which he put on the table, pulling one out and popping off the lid before handing it to Danny. 

"It must be bad if you're giving me another beer before the news."

Steve sat back down, his leg pressing against Danny's. "There isn't any news," Steve said. "But a couple of leads that might give us info. I should hear something tomorrow, or the day after at the latest."

"I don't know if I have that much time," Danny said, taking a long drink. "I don't know how long this guy is gonna wait."

"So we'll put him off."

Danny took another drink. "And what if we find out he really does have Matt?" Danny asked. "Where the hell am I supposed to find that much money?"

"Well, I doubt we can steal that drug bust money again...."

It was a terrible joke, but it made Danny laugh all the same. He sobered, though, as the reality hit him all over again. "What am I gonna do?" he asked, eyes on Steve's. "I mean, I know what he's done, but he's my little brother."

"I know." Steve's voice was soft, his hand resting on Danny's thigh, a warm, comforting presence. "We'll figure it out."

The weight of everything hit him--the whole mess with Matt, now the new mess, what he was going to tell his parents, the thought that Reyes might go after Grace if Danny didn't respond to the Matt threat. And that was one thing he didn't need to think about, Grace in danger, not after the last two cases. 

He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about anything. He looked up at Steve, who'd done such an excellent job of driving everything out of Danny's head the other night. The method was a surprise, but not a bad one. Sex was definitely better for dealing with shit than, say, rearranging Reyes' face, for example. 

Steve licked his lips, and Danny leaned into him just a little. "There's nothing you can do about it tonight, though," Steve said, his voice hoarse.

"I know. Hurry up and wait--story of my fucking life when it comes to my brother lately."

"Danny...."

He shook his head. "You're right," he said. "There's nothing I can do but think up increasingly bad scenarios all night about what might happen."

"What good does that do?" Steve said.

"None." Danny leaned a little closer. "So stop me."

"What?"

"Stop me from thinking."

Something flared in Steve's eyes, his hand tightening on Danny's leg. One corner of Steve's mouth lifted just a fraction. "Did you have something in mind for that?"

Danny didn't bother with a verbal response, choosing instead to turn sideways, lifting one leg over both of Steve's to straddle Steve's lap in one fluid motion. He captured Steve's lips before Steve could get a word out, chasing the mindless pleasure he'd found there before with his tongue. His hands were doing the same, undoing both their flies. 

Steve's hands were on Danny's ass, holding him up just enough for Danny to get their dicks out, his hand wrapping around both of them. Danny stroked a few times, but the friction was too much, so he had to let Steve's mouth go long enough to lick his own hand. 

At the sweep of Danny's tongue over his hand, Steve's eyes went darker, flicking between Danny's hand and his mouth. Steve's eyes stayed on Danny's mouth as Danny dropped his hand, until Danny squeezed both of their dicks together again, stroking them hard and fast, chasing oblivion. 

It was tough to lose his mind completely, though, with Steve staring at him. Danny couldn't tear his eyes away, watching as Steve lost his mind instead, bit by bit, usually laser-sharp eyes becoming unfocused and finally fluttering closed as Steve groaned and came all over Danny's hand.

The sheer power of pulling that reaction out of someone who could, if he chose, probably kill Danny with his pinky, was enough to get Danny over the edge, oblivion finally reaching his brain and blotting out everything else there but pleasure. 

The problem with sex as a coping mechanism, though, was that you had to come down eventually. There were worse places to do it than safe in his partner's arms, Danny supposed, but returning awareness also came with the knowledge that he was sweaty, sticky and a little disgusting, also in his partner's arms. 

Not that said partner seemed to mind. Danny's forehead was resting on Steve's shoulder, and one of Steve's hands was at the small of Danny's back, the other at the base of Danny's neck. It was comfortable. 

Too comfortable.

Danny made himself move, sitting up to give Steve a smile. "I should probably get cleaned up."

Steve nodded. "Me, too." 

Danny removed himself, taking a second to make sure his legs still worked before disappearing into the spare bathroom. He could hear the water running through the pipes to the bathroom in Steve's room, and made sure he was out into the living room before Steve, finishing the beer as Steve came back down the stairs. 

"You want to stay and watch the rest of the game?" Steve asked. 

Danny hesitated. He did. But he didn't. "I should go," he said. "I want to check in with the patrol car at Rachel's before I go home." 

"Okay. Let me know if anything seems off. Or if there's anything else I can do."

Danny ducked his head and laughed. "I think I've asked enough of you for one night."

"No such thing," Steve said. "Call if you need me."

"I will. Thanks."

Steve just shrugged, like it was nothing. Because he was Steve. "Night, Danno."

"Night."

Danny left without looking back.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...503 came along and jossed this chapter a little (the perils of writing as the season progresses). Just pretend it takes place in that black hole of continuity where Steve heals a gunshot wound in like 2 hours? :)


	3. Chapter 3

Danny leaned against the Camaro as he stared at the post card, then at the view, then the post card, then the view again. The whole idea was crazy. Not just your routine, run of the mill kind of crazy, either--this was almost McGarrett-level insanity. 

He'd almost forgotten about the post card. He'd hidden it away, both to forget about it, and to keep anyone else from seeing that he'd actually had contact with a fugitive who happened to share his DNA. But once he realized Reyes might really have Matt, he'd started to wonder why Matt would tell the guy Danny knew where the money was. 

The post card suddenly made sense, in a completely insane kind of way. 

The idea of digging up a random field--which, for all he knew, was protected land or sacred or something--just because he thought he might have a treasure map was ridiculous. He'd told himself the whole drive that wandering around digging random holes in a field was stupid. 

And yet here he stood, staring at the same view that was in the picture. 

No. He wasn't doing this. It was too crazy. He got back into the car, and started to pull out the keys, but stopped, looking at the view again. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

The irony of calling Steve to get him to talk Danny _out_ of doing something crazy was not lost on him. Steve had been responsible for a lot of his crazy, even more so lately, especially in areas that Danny was resolutely not thinking about. He had too much to deal with without adding this new thing they were apparently doing to the mix.

One batch of insanity at a time was enough.

He tapped on one of the three missed calls from Steve to call him back, not particularly surprised when Steve's immediate suggestion was to just go down to Columbia and get Matt. Like it was nothing. Because you could take the SEAL out of the Navy, you could even tame him a little, but the tendencies were too embedded. 

At least it was a whole different kind of crazy than Danny's idea.

Though it was less comforting that Danny had already considered it and dismissed it only because it probably wouldn't work. 

He wasn't sure whether or not to be worried or amused that Steve didn't think the idea of buried treasure was crazy. But the confirmation was enough to get Danny to start digging. 

He was tempted for a second by Steve's offer to come out there, but by the time Steve could get there, Danny would either have found the money, or be ready to bury a body in one of the holes. And Steve might be a tempting one to bury in that kind of mood. 

He promised to give Steve a call if he found anything and hung up, checking the post card one more time before he started digging. It wasn't long before he started wishing he'd let Steve come help, and he was long past wishing that by the time he dug the shovel into the latest hole and hit something solid.

If this was some centuries old pirate treasure, he was going to be pissed.

But it wasn't a pirate's chest. It was a bag full of money. So either it was the biggest coincidence in the world, or Danny had found Matt's money.

No, Reyes' money, which Matt had hidden away and then left Danny holding the bag. Literally. 

He wondered where it would land on the irony scale if Danny got Matt back just to kill him himself. 

When Danny had dug all the money up, he transferred it to the trunk of the Camaro, cleaned up his mess, and got back in the car, pointing it towards town. Towards Steve.

He needed an insane plan to make sure he and Matt both came out of this ransom drop alive. Lucky for him, he knew someone who specialized in insanity.

***


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment he'd gotten back down the stairs, gun in hand, covering his partner as always, Steve had barely taken his eyes off Danny. They were in the car before Danny said a word. "I, uh...we should do something about...that," he said, waving a hand back towards the bloodbath they'd just walked away from. 

"I'll take care of it," Steve said.

Danny's laugh bordered on hysteria. "You'll take care of it?" he said, scrubbing a hand over his face, more of that laugh bubbling up from his throat. The sound hurt to listen to. "We're not even supposed to be here. But let me guess, you know a guy?"

"Several, actually." He did still have contacts here--the Hesse brothers had spent a stint in Colombia in 2008, and Steve had made a few friends. A couple of them still owed him. 

Not that it mattered--he'd pay another drug lord to take care of it if that's what it took. 

"Of course you do." 

He'd do a hell of a lot more than handle the situation if it would stop that laughter. Steve put a hand on Danny's shoulder until Danny looked at him. "You okay?"

The hints of laughter still lurking in Danny's eyes faded, and Danny nodded. "Yeah," he said, straightening up in his seat and putting his seat belt on. "I'm good."

He was so far from good it wasn't even funny, but he'd pulled it together enough to make it to the air strip and get on the plane. That's all Steve needed from him right now.

***

The cargo plane he'd managed to 'borrow' again, along with a couple of good friends who were pilots, was waiting for them at the air strip. They loaded everything onto the plane, and Steve watched Danny strap himself into the chair. "Let me just go check in with Digger," Steve said, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder again. "I'll be right back."

Danny nodded, so Steve went up to the cockpit and closed the door. "Thanks again," he said to Digger and to Casper, watching as they went through the final preflight check. 

"Hey, I owe you," Digger said. "We both do."

"A flight to Cambodia and now Colombia?" Steve said, laughing a little. "I think you've paid your debt."

Digger laughed back. "We'll see if you still think that the next time you need a favor."

"Listen," he said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the engines, "my partner got some bad news here. I don't know how he's gonna take it, so if you hear some yelling or...anything, just stay up here, okay?"

"Nobody's gonna get hurt, right?" Casper said.

"No. It's not like that," Steve said, though he couldn't really make any promises. "He's just kind of...loud. There might be yelling," Steve said. "A lot of yelling."

"Got it," Digger said. "Let him yell his head off if he wants."

"Thanks," Steve said. 

He turned, shutting the door behind him and joining Danny in the cargo hold, taking the only other seat, facing Danny. He wished he'd thought to tell Digger to take that one out and not the one beside Danny's when he'd called, not wanting the third empty seat to remind Danny of what happened--as if that was going to fix everything. 

Danny stared at a spot just over Steve's shoulder, seeing God only knew what in his own head as they took off. Steve wanted to say something, do something to distract Danny from nothing but the thoughts and images he knew were swirling around in Danny's brain for the next twelve hours, but he wasn't sure what.

Danny had done the right thing, Steve had no doubt about it. He'd had no other choice. Reyes was never going to get justice or pay for what he'd done, but beyond that, he'd threatened Grace. Once that had happened, there'd been no doubt about the outcome, it was just whether they'd manage it right then, or have to come back and take care of him later. 

They were not leaving Colombia with Reyes alive.

But Steve also knew what it was like to wrestle with killing an unarmed man, even when it was the only course of action. It went against every noble instinct that made them go into law enforcement and the military, and understanding the need for it didn't make it easier. The grim satisfaction of ridding humanity of someone intent on doing it harm helped a little, but it didn't make the faces go away. 

Steve could still call up every assignment he'd had as a sniper without having to think about it.

It led to a lot of sleepless nights on bad days, and he hadn't even known the people his targets were responsible for murdering, or worse. He'd always maintained that the moment it got easy was the moment he needed to get out, but he'd gone into a different line in the Navy and hadn't had to do a lot more of those assignments. 

He hadn't complained.

The plane leveled off, and Steve unbuckled his seat belt and his seat and moved it over beside Danny, latching it in place before sitting back down. "You didn't have a choice," Steve said after a moment.

"I know."

"He threatened Grace."

"I know."

Steve studied Danny's profile, the way he sat there, still as a stone, staring straight ahead. "Do you?" Steve said at last.

Danny turned his head and blinked at him. "Do I what?"

"Know that you had no choice. I mean really know it."

Danny shrugged. "What difference does it make whether I had no choice?" he said. "My brother's still dead."

He'd seen a few tears in Danny's eyes right afterwards, but there were none now. Danny's eyes were dry and red. "But you're not. You're safe. Grace is safe."

"Yeah." 

The word was soft, almost a breath more than a word, as Danny looked down at his hands. Steve wanted to do something, wanted--no, needed to get through to Danny and help. He covered Danny's hands with one of his own. "You had no choice," he said again.

Danny's head snapped up. "You think that makes a difference?" he said, the tone as much as the volume making Steve wince. "I'm just supposed to say, 'hey, this guy might someday come back and hurt my family, so clearly I have to murder him in cold blood?" 

"Danny."

He shrugged, his mouth turned down in an exaggerated frown. "I mean, the guy had it coming, right? So sure, why not just put a bullet between his eyes?"

"Danny." 

Steve squeezed Danny's hands, but he jerked them out from Steve's grip, unbuckling his seatbelt and all but jumping out of the seat to pace across the plane. "I'm glad you think this is just so easy to slot away in a neat little compartment and forget about, Steve," Danny said, biting the words off like they hurt, "but the rest of us? Us mere mortals? We're not quite as quick to file it under 'necessary murder' and just let it go, okay? It takes a little while to not see someone's face as a before and after with a bullet in it!"

Steve got up and stopped Danny in his tracks, letting out a shaky breath before he reached out and just hauled him in, Steve's arms going around him and holding tight, not letting go no matter how much Danny tried to get loose. 

A patch of turbulence jarred them just enough that Steve couldn't keep them both on their feet. He controlled their landing as best he could, taking the brunt of the fall and cushioning Danny by letting him land mostly on top of Steve's body.

Danny had taken more than enough blows for one day. 

The air smoothed, and Danny raised his head just enough to look Steve in the eye. The shadows that Steve could see lurking in the back of Danny's gaze hurt, like a physical pain, and if it felt that way to Steve, he couldn't imagine the way it felt to be Danny right now. 

Something in Danny's face shifted, though, and Steve recognized that look a split second before Danny's mouth was on his, hard and demanding. His hands were moving between their bodies, getting both of their pants undone before Steve could do much more than grip Danny's thighs, just below his ass, to help him raise up enough to manage it. 

Danny's mouth was relentless on Steve's neck, as his hand grabbed both their cocks, still enough sweat from the heat of Colombia and the physical exertion to make the friction stay just on the right side of painful. He felt Danny's teeth all over, tingling spots that he suspected would end up looking like angry marks before they landed.

Steve pushed up into Danny's hand as Danny's mouth lingered on Steve's collarbone, sucking at it like he was trying to somehow transmit some of his pain out of his own body, make it bearable by sharing it. Steve was fine with that--if he'd been able to get rid of the two goons who'd waylaid him a little longer than Danny's had, he'd have gladly been the one to shoot Reyes between the eyes.

But he hadn't, and Danny had deserved the choice, even if Steve would have rather taken that burden himself. He knew how to bear it so much better, knew how to handle the fallout to come, if only because he had more practice.

He wished he could have spared Danny that.

But he couldn't. He could, however, take whatever Danny wanted to dish out, in the form of bites down the middle of Steve's chest, moving lower until Danny reached Steve's dick, his mouth covering it quickly, demanding nothing less than total surrender.

Steve got it. Danny couldn't control himself, so he was searching for something, someone he could control. Fine by Steve.

He let Danny have it, doing his best to push against Danny's strong hands that kept him in place no matter what, letting him have the noises that Steve really couldn't keep quiet anyway, not under this kind of assault. Danny's mouth was hot and wet and amazing, and Steve didn't want this to end, but he couldn't stop himself, Danny's relentless attack pulling Steve's orgasm out of him well before he was ready for it to end.

Danny drank him down like it was nothing, not missing a beat, and Steve wondered just where Danny had learned that. He brushed that thought aside--this was sex, pure and simple, a coping mechanism. It didn't matter where Danny had learned to suck cock like a pro. All that mattered was how fucking good it felt when he used that skill on Steve.

Steve had just about caught his breath when Danny moved, shuffling his way up Steve's body on his knees, his dick standing out from his body, making Steve's mouth water even before it brushed his lips. Steve raised his arms above his head to accommodate Danny, and Danny leaned over, grabbing both of Steve's wrist with one hand and pinning them to the ground. 

His dick slipped into Steve's mouth, a little tentative at first as it found its way, then thrusting with increasing surety, Danny's eyes dark and hooded, intent on watching his dick disappear behind Steve's lips over and over. 

Steve had instantly shifted to accommodate Danny's actions, skills he hadn't used in years coming back to him as easily as if he'd done it yesterday. He felt almost guilty for enjoying it as much as he did, because that wasn't what this was about, but if it helped Danny in any way, then that was all that mattered in the end.

Danny's thrusts became more erratic, and Steve watched as Danny bit his lip hard and pulled out. Watching Danny come was breathtaking, and Steve had to lick his lips to taste the drops that fell on them as Danny shuddered one last time and stilled. 

He sat on Steve's chest for a long moment before sliding down until he could slump over onto Steve's body. Danny's face pressed against Steve's neck for a long moment before he sat up again, eyes trained on the open neckline of Steve's shirt. 

Danny took one last, almost steady breath before moving off Steve, getting shakily to his feet and doing up his pants. Steve pushed himself to his feet, having a little trouble standing at first, though whether that was because of the plane's movements or the shaking in his legs he wasn't sure. He zipped himself back up, then wiped the last evidence of Danny's release off his face with the front of his shirt.

He looked down at the Henley, mottled with sweat, dirt, blood and now come, and pulled it over his head, going to the duffel stashed in the corner and pulling out a clean one. Once he had that on, he turned back to find Danny sitting in his seat, staring down at his hands again.

"Hey, Danny, you want some water?"

Danny nodded, so Steve grabbed a couple of bottles and handed one to Danny before sitting down again. He watched as Danny drank half the bottle in one go before recapping it, and staring down at it in his lap. 

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, aiming for control, before deciding the hell with control. He reached over and took one of Danny's hands, lacing his fingers with it, and held on. 

Danny glanced over at him. "He was my baby brother. It was my job to take care of him."

"I know," Steve said, leaning his head on Danny's shoulder. "I know."

***


	5. Chapter 5

Danny stood off in the corner, safe in the shadows, watching the various members of his family, talking and sharing stories in the living room. Like it was any other after-dinner gathering. Like they'd just finished Thanksgiving, or Christmas.

You'd never know they'd just buried one of their own, unless you knew where to look. 

He saw the way his mom was clutching at the tissue she didn't seem to even realize was in her hand, the way she sat closer than usual to his dad. The way his sisters were a little more animated than they normally would be, as if they were trying to keep the mood light by sheer force of will.

It was so much easier for them to ignore it, though. They weren't the last ones to see Matt. They weren't the ones who--

He put the image of that barrel out of his head, swallowing at the memory of the smell. The shock. And the rage.

As if he could put the rage behind him. 

He slipped out silently, climbing the stairs, pausing to check on Grace, who was sound asleep in the room next to his. He watched her sleep for a long moment, smoothing her hair back to appreciate how calm and serene she was. How she'd handled the funeral like a pro.

She'd cried for at least half an hour when he'd told her. 

He gave her a kiss and left, turning into his room. The door closed quietly behind him, but the silence was somehow louder than his family's talking, almost deafening. He closed his eyes, but it didn't do any good, so he laid back on the bed and pulled the pillow over his face, but the darkness only made the memories that much clearer in his head. 

A knock at the door was irritating and a welcome distraction all at the same time. He put the back where it belonged and sat up. "Come in."

Clara stuck her head in as if worried she might be interrupting, before stepping all the way inside and closing the door. "I thought you'd just gone to check on Grace," she said quietly, crossing the room to sit next to him on the bed. "But you didn't come back."

"I checked on her," Danny said, "but I needed a little peace and quiet." 

He managed not to laugh at his own comment--his mother had her worried frown deep enough as it was. She didn't need to know the worst of it.

She was watching him carefully already, and he could see her choosing her words, hated making her have to do that. "Danny...none of this is your fault."

 _Yes, it is._ "I know."

"Daniel Williams, you suck at lying."

"It's not a lie, Mom. I know it's not my fault."

"But you don't believe it."

He shrugged. There was no point in lying outright, not to her. He could get by with that lie to just about anyone. But not with her, and not with--

As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the screen just in case it was Rachel, calling to check on Grace, but no, it was Steve. Again. He put the phone down and looked at his mom. "I'm not--" He stopped, and took a deep breath. "I'll get there," he said, after a moment. 

He wouldn't, but hopefully she'd at least buy that one.

"Right," she said, the only word it took for him to know she didn't buy it. At all. "Is that why you're ducking Steve's calls?"

"We were talking," Danny said. "Didn't you always tell me it was rude to answer the phone in the middle of a conversation?"

"The only thing I hate more than you throwing my own words back at me is when you pull them out like that."

"Like what?"

"Like they weren't meant to be used."

Danny shook his head. "I'll call him back later."

"Really?" She eyed the phone, then looked at Danny again. "I know my eyes may be a little old," she said pointedly, "but even I can see that screen says nine missed calls."

"I had the ringer off."

"Danny."

"What?"

The phone buzzed, and Danny looked down to see there was another voicemail from Steve. His mom saw the screen as well. "Seriously, Danny," she said, putting her hand on his knee, "you're avoiding us, you're avoiding your best friend...you have to talk to someone."

"I talk plenty."

"No, you've been more quiet than I've seen you since...well, in a long time."

She didn't have to fill in that pause; he knew who she meant. Billy. One more person whose death was on his hands. "What do you want me to say, Ma?"

"That you know your brother made his own choices, and that nothing that happened to him was anyone's fault but his own."

Except for how Danny had tipped him off to the cops. And Danny had led Steve to lie to the DEA about Matt, had had every chance to stop Matt himself, and had let him get on that plane. Had ignored the clue Matt had sent about the money. Had dragged his feet on everything connected with Reyes and the end result had been Matt in a barrel. 

Sure, it wasn't Danny's fault Matt was dead. But it was Danny's fault he hadn't stopped it from happening ten times along the way.

He should've shot Reyes for breaking and entering when he'd first shown up at the house. 

He should've shot Matt when he tried to get on the plane.

He should've done a lot of things. 

"Danny."

He blinked up at Clara. "Sorry, what?"

"I said you need to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"Blaming yourself, wallowing, hiding from your family and friends--all of it. It ends now."

Because that was so easy to say. But doing it.... "I'm working on it."

"No, you're not."

"Jesus, Ma, what do I have to do to convince you?"

"You can start by listening to that voicemail," she said. "And then call him back. If you won't talk to us, talk to him. Hell, talk to a total stranger. But talk to _someone_."

Danny sighed. "If I promise to listen to the voicemail, will you give me some privacy?"

She eyed him for a long moment, then nodded, apparently deciding that he would actually do what he promised her. "Okay." She bit her lip for a few seconds. "Look, you can talk to me, too, you know that, right?"

"I know." He couldn't, but she wouldn't understand why. Couldn't understand why. But he did know she'd listen if he could. 

That he couldn't even talk to his own mother about it was his fault, too.

"Okay." She leaned in and gave him a hug, smelling like she always had of White Shoulders and make up. It seemed odd, somehow, that that hadn't changed. Like she should be different. 

Maybe only he was so different that there should be some sort of physical manifestation of it. He wondered if he smelled different, or if it felt different when she hugged him. If it did, she didn't show any sign of it when she let him go. Her smile was the same, if a little sad. Her touch as she patted him on the cheek was the same, nothing different about it at all.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Night, Ma."

She paused at the door, nodding at the phone until he picked it up. "You promised," she said, as she slipped out the door and closed it again.

Right. He'd promised to listen to this voicemail. He didn't have to listen to all of them. So he pulled up the most recent one and put the phone to his ear. 

"Hey, Danny, it's me again. I'm just checking in on you man. I just wanted to see how you were doing. See how the family's holding up." Steve sounded tired. Or maybe that was just Danny projecting. "Look, give me a call if you get a second, all right? I'm thinking about you, buddy." There was a short pause, as if there was more Steve wanted to say. But all that came after was a quick, "Bye."

Danny pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the message for a few seconds, thumb hovering over the delete button. 

He hit save instead, before putting the phone down on the bed beside him, Steve's face smiling up at him, the number of unopened voicemails down to eight. 

He wondered if the rest of them sounded as tired and cautious, or if they just got that way gradually, as Steve realized Danny wasn't just busy, wasn't just missing his calls or dealing with so much he couldn't call. 

That Danny was avoiding him.

The way Danny had avoided the problem of Matt, avoided dealing with his parents' almost divorce, the way he avoided anything until it blew up in his face.

Funny how the explosion always seemed to cause more collateral damage than anything.

He picked up the phone and scrolled up to the first voicemail and hit play.

***


	6. Chapter 6

"We'd like to welcome you to Honolulu International Airport, where the local time is 2:33. Please remain seated until the captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt signs; however, if your cell phone is in reach, feel free to turn it on at this time. We'll be at the gate in just a few moments." 

Danny stared out the window at the familiar sight of Honolulu, the too-bright, too-blue skies that were never allowed to be marred with grey clouds for very long, and then only for the express purpose of bringing about those rainbows that were so prevalent they put them on the fucking license plates. 

He pulled out his phone and switched it off airplane mode with reluctance, waiting while it buzzed with various updates before it finally stopped. He checked his texts to see six from Steve, all random, all clearly designed to distract Danny from his return to reality. 

"Kids, right?" his seatmate said, nodding at his own phone. "I got three, and my phone buzzes all day long with those texts."

The guy had managed to get the fact that Danny had a daughter out of Danny before he'd feigned sleep to avoid further conversation. "Yeah, kids," Danny said, because, hey, McGarrett really was nothing more than an overgrown kid most days anyway, right? 

The plane stuttered to a halt, and Danny stretched, more than comfortable from the mysterious upgrade to first class. He had a sneaking suspicion who was behind it, and didn't want to know what kind of favors someone from American Airlines owed Steve that warranted that. 

He appreciated the gesture, as he got up and retrieved his carry on, following his seat mate out of the plane. It got him off the plane quickly, it kept him from being crammed in with other people when he wanted nothing but distance from the rest of the world. And maybe it made Steve feel a little better, when all he'd gotten from Danny for the last month had been daily texts. 

He'd relented to that after he'd gone through all those voicemails from Steve in one night, replying by text that he was fine, and Steve needed to stop worrying. He'd even anticipated Steve's version of yeah, right, and written back that he'd check in once a day if Steve stopped calling, but if he kept it up, Danny wasn't answering. 

His phone hadn't rung with Steve's picture showing up since, but as he got to baggage claim, it buzzed, and he looked down to see Steve's face. Which was better than what Danny had feared--he'd half expected to see Steve standing at the gate when the plane landed. 

Danny's thumb hovered over the screen for a second before he changed his mind, letting the call go to voicemail and shoving the phone back in his pocket. He wasn't ready for reality. 

He grabbed his bag and headed for his car, shoving his bag out of sight in the trunk and getting behind the wheel. It was strange, surreal, even, being back here, back in his car, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't watched his parents slowly fall apart following the funeral. His sisters had gone back to their homes, showing up at random times to check in, but Danny had been there day in and day out to see his parents' reactions. 

It made him feel guilty for moving to Hawaii, so far from them, for choosing a job where they could lose him, too, any minute. But he couldn't give up who he was any more than he could live somewhere Grace didn't. 

After all, look what happened when he forgot to be a cop for five seconds. Just long enough for his brother to get onto a plane and off to his eventual death.

Danny shoved that thought out of his brain and started the car, heading out of long term parking. He couldn't go home yet, wasn't ready for that, so he just started driving, no idea where he was even headed until he got there.

He pulled off the road and got out of the car, staring at the view. The first day on the island he'd let this view help him accept this was his new home, like it or not. He'd let it be the spot where he stood firm on Grace's custody. 

Seemed as good a place as any to try to let reality seep back in. 

More out of habit than anything, he unlocked his gun and put it on his hip, the weight both strange and familiar at the same time. It reminded him why he was here, why he couldn't just turn around, take Grace and flee to some other place far away.

Running until he reached the end of the Earth still wouldn't change the fact that Matt was dead. 

Staring at the end of the Earth probably wouldn't help either, but he was already here, might as well stay for a while. He sat down, feet dangling over the edge, almost amused by how appropriate that was. 

The view was still amazing, but it didn't have the answer for how he was supposed to get up and go back to his life like nothing had happened. Like everything was the same, and nothing had changed, and Matt was still running around with criminals and breathing and not...well, not in jail, where at least he'd be alive. 

Because Danny had been too weak to stop him when he'd had the chance. 

He stopped thinking about that, stopped thinking about anything--or at least he tried. Thoughts drifted through his head, random and out of order, for a while until he heard a car stop, and a door. 

He turned around, not really surprised to see Steve. Danny's phone had been vibrating in his pocket for a while, but it had stopped, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Steve wouldn't just give up. He might have contented himself to texts that Danny was okay when he was 5,000 miles and an ocean away, but not when Danny was on the same small island. 

Steve, being Steve, went with the obvious--like Danny didn't know he'd been calling? Just because he didn't answer the phone didn't mean he didn't know it had been ringing. But then Steve was good at burying his head in the sand--maybe that's why he liked the island. There was so much of it to bury his head in.

An image of Matt's coffin being lowered into the ground came to Danny's mind and he banished it. 

"How are your folks holding up?" Steve asked. 

_They're not. They're falling apart._ Their marriage might have survived divorce threats, but Danny wasn't sure it would survive this. He was sure his succinct explanation of just how well they weren't holding up didn't do it justice, but he was just as sure Steve got the picture all the same. 

"How you doing?" Steve asked, after a moment. 

His voice was low and careful, a tone Danny recognized from Steve dealing with traumatized victims and witnesses. It was so out of place and so perfect for the situation all at once that Danny had to fight the irrational urge to laugh. 

"I'm all right," he said eventually, but he could feel the weight of Steve's stare. He didn't even need that to know that Steve wouldn't buy it--he hadn't bought it from texts for weeks, why would he buy it now?

"You know it's not your fault, Danny."

Right. Someone else let Matt get on that plane. Someone else tipped him off to the investigation, gave him the knowledge he needed to run, and then helped him get away. 

Oh, no, wait, that was Danny. 

He said as much to Steve, but Steve still wanted to make Danny the victim, not the perp. 

"Don't do that. What, are you gonna second guess every decision you made?" 

Danny just looked at him. 

"I did that with my old man, Danny. I did that with Freddie, too. The truth is, I could never have saved either of them." Danny didn't answer, didn't even look at Steve, who, after a moment, added, again, "Don't do that to yourself."

Easy for him to say. Danny had been there for Steve's second guessing about his father, he'd heard the stories about Freddie, and seen what that had done to Steve even years later. So, yeah, it was easy for Steve to say now, but it had been a hell of a different story a month after it had happened, with everything still fresh.

Maybe in a few years Danny might be able to put all this into perspective. He couldn't see how, not now, but then everything looked different the further you got from it in the rear view mirror.

Unless it was the huge truck getting closer about to mow you down.

Steve's phone rang, and Danny listened as he answered, getting nothing from the few words he heard before Steve hung up. "That was Duke," Steve said. "Someone showed up at HPD and he'll only talk to Five-0." Steve hesitated only a second before asking, "You up for it?"

"Yeah," Danny said, because his ass was getting numb from sitting there, and he hadn't figured out a fucking thing. Maybe work would help. "Yeah," he said again, swinging his feet around and standing, ignoring the twinge in his knee. "I'll meet you there, all right?"

"Yeah." Steve took two steps toward the truck before he turned around. "Hey, Danny?"

Danny stopped, his hand on the door of his car. "Yeah?"

"It's good to have you back, partner."

Danny nodded and got into the car.

***

Danny was searching for anything that might lead them to a clue about Farrow, but coming up empty. He could really use Chin or Kono, but serial killer slashing up the island was kind of important. He could even use Jerry, not that he'd ever say that out loud. Jerry didn't need any encouragement--that's how they were in this mess to begin with. 

"Excuse me?"

The Australian accent brought Danny up short, and he turned around to see a blonde woman in a suit, a slight frown on her face. The sensible suit, and the fact that she was unescorted, led Danny to one opinion: Lawyer. "Can I help you?" Danny asked.

"Sorry, I'm looking for Steve?"

"Steve?"

"McGarrett?" She blinked. "Oh, you must be Detective Williams," she said. "Sorry, long day, or I'd have realized sooner."

Danny put two and two together. "Right, you must be Deputy Prosecutor Clayton." Steve had mentioned he'd gone to her about the warrant. He'd neglected to mention that she was pretty. Or a woman. 

Or that she called him Steve. 

"Yes, Ellie Clayton." She put out her hand and Danny shook it automatically. "I've heard a lot about you."

 _I've heard nothing about you._ But then he hadn't really given Steve a chance to say anything, and it had been over a month. In Steve McGarrett relationship-building time, that could be less than one day, or a whole year, depending on his mood. "So how, uh, do you know Steve?" Danny asked.

"He helped solve my father's murder." Her smile was fond. "His dad had tried for years to solve it, but then he died, and I ran into Steve at John's grave, and...." She shrugged. "He was so nice, and polite, and helpful, and he managed to solve the case."

 _Nice? Polite? Helpful?_ "Really? How interesting." Danny propped his hip against the computer table. "Polite?"

"He's quite the gentleman."

 _Oh I just bet he is._ "That's our Steve."

"Look, if it's a bad time, I can come back another time."

"No, no, no, stay. It's fine. I'll just go find our nice, polite Steven. Wait here."

Danny ran into Steve on the stairway to the rendition room. He let Steve update him, then let him know what Fong's team had found--a lot of nothing--before dropping the bomb. "You have a visitor."

The sheer enjoyment of mocking Steve almost distracted Danny from his dark mood for a moment. He focused on the case, though, as Ellie told them about Farrow's connections. Which, of course, put them in deep shit. 

"Ah, well, it's a good thing we didn't do anything stupid, then," Danny said, possibly a little too gleefully, as he turned to look at Steve. 

If she was even halfway good at her job, she would have noticed something in Steve's offhand thanks for the advice, but she didn't need to, not with Jerry having his usual excellent timing. Fortunately, for once, he was actually aware enough of other people to lie. Unfortunately, he was a terrible liar. 

And Ellie really was good at her job. Or she really knew Steve. "What did you do, Steve?"

Steve had the self-preservation to look appropriately chagrined as he said, "Nothing you want to know about."

Ellie looked at all three of them, then showed her own sense of self-preservation. "All right...I'll show myself out." 

Danny hid his amusement as he turned back to Jerry, amusement fading entirely when Jerry said, "He's not Farrow," and threw a file in front of them.

***

"A helicopter?" Danny said, adding a great sigh of annoyance in case it wasn't clear in his voice. "Really?"

Steve gave him a look. "Look at it this way," he said, one foot already in the chopper, "at least I'm not flying it?"

"You make a good point," Danny said, climbing up after him. "I'm actually surprised you thought of it."

"Well, it goes both ways--if I'm not flying it, that's one less thing for you to bitch about."

Danny rolled his eyes, grateful for the semblance of normalcy. He hadn't fired a weapon since Colombia, and while he wasn't really worried about over a decade of training somehow going missing after a short time, it was still a little more nerve wracking than usual.

Especially when they had to make their entrance sliding down a rope out of a helicopter.

He'd hand that to Steve--Danny sure as hell had done a lot of things since he'd met the guy that he'd never considered before. Up to, and including, sex with another guy, but that was one more thing he was just not thinking about. 

Not that it bothered him, it just didn't mean anything. So there was no point thinking about it. 

The firefight was almost anticlimactic, save for one moment when Danny thought Steve might get shot. But he didn't, and they got their guy. Or guys, rather, spread out among a shitload of barrels just like the one Danny had been seeing in his nightmares.

He held back a little while Steve opened one of them, even though he knew the money had to be what was in them. Just in case, though, he waited until he could tell from Steve's face that it was, in fact, the money. 

Steve gave Danny a long look. "Thanks for the heads up," he said. 

Danny shrugged. "Couldn't have you getting yourself shot my first day back, could I?"

Steve huffed a sort of laugh. "I managed not to get shot while you were gone." His face grew serious before he added, "It's nice to have you back, partner." 

"It's nice to be back."

And it was, if only for the distraction from seeing his parents and thinking about Matt. Work was the only distraction he had until Grace was back at home, and with the trip to New Jersey taking up more than his usual share of custody, he didn't get her back until the end of the week. 

So work would do until then.

***

_Consciousness came slowly, and with the weird sense of someone else in the room. Danny opened his eyes to see Steve standing over the bed, watching him sleep._

_"That's creepy," Danny said, rubbing his eyes. "Also, it could get you shot."_

_Steve didn't answer. He just sat down on the side of the bed, face in super-frown mode, like Danny was a puzzle he couldn't solve._

_"What's wrong?" Danny asked, starting to sit up, but Steve stopped him, his hand in the middle of Danny's chest, holding him down on the bed. "Steve?"_

_Steve shook his head, leaning down, capturing Danny's lips in a kiss and this, Danny knew this was a bad idea, was part of what he was avoiding, because it was so easy to lose himself in this and forget what had happened. But he wanted to forget, needed to forget, and Steve's mouth was a great place to lose himself._

_That mouth moved its way down Danny's body with full intent, that laser focus that was so familiar from their job put to even better use on Danny's skin, tasting and teasing its way to Danny's dick. It felt good, like nothing else had since--_

Danny woke to the phantom feel of Steve's mouth on him and nothing else but darkness. He drew in a long breath, letting it slowly go before opening his eyes to the darkness again. 

He turned over, thumping his pillow and telling his subconscious to fuck off. That particular path to temporary oblivion was not an option. And he couldn't get drunk, either, because they might get a case. 

So his subconscious could go back to dreaming about something non-Steve related. Like food. Or anything else.

But sleep was a long time in coming back.

***

Danny was staring at the kitchen sink, wondering if he looked long enough it would wash the half-eaten cereal out of his bowl. Before he found out, his phone rang. He checked the screen, seeing Steve's face, and wanting to ignore the call. 

He couldn't; it might be a case. But he wanted to. "Hey," he said as he put the phone to his ear.

"Come fishing with us," Steve said.

"Us?"

"Me and Ellie. Come over to the house and go fishing."

 _Yeah, because being the charity case third wheel was so appealing._ Danny knew it wasn't like that, but knowing and _knowing_ was not the same thing, and his subconscious needed to learn its place anyway. "I can't," he said. "I'm about to go in to work. I want to get caught up so I'm up to speed before we get bombarded with cases again."

There was a long pause that told Danny Steve saw it for the bullshit it was. "You can catch up tomorrow," Steve said. "Seriously, Ellie's heard a lot about you. I know she'd like to get to know you."

Danny closed his eyes and gripped the counter. He wasn't in the mood for company and he wasn't in the mood for Steve McGarrett in hard sell mode. "Some other time, all right?"

He heard the sigh, though he suspected Steve didn't even know he'd made the noise. "Okay. Call me if you have any questions on the files or...anything."

_Translation: If I don't hear from you I'll track your ass down._

"I'll be fine, but I'll call if I need you, okay?"

_Translation: Track my ass down and there's gonna be a fight._

"Okay. Have fun."

"You, too."

Danny ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He should've said yes--fishing would've been a distraction, and he was sure they'd have had fun. But he wasn't up for delving into the questions of who he was, where he was from, etc.--especially not the family ones. And he wasn't up for Steve's careful scrutiny yet, either. He still needed time to be up to that level.

He rinsed out the bowl and left in the sink to deal with later as he dried his hands and headed for HQ.

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon the fact that you might have to sidestep my guts that spilled out all over this chapter. My apologies. Also, this is what I listened to on repeat while writing this - it's a fitting background, I think. [Pearl Jam - Just Breathe (live)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0mhrqfeFjQ)

He knew. 

Even before the phone call, Danny knew. But the moment he answered, when he heard "Commander McGarrett," he definitely knew. 

Steve never missed a crime scene. And Danny rarely ever beat him to one, let alone had to go in before he could get there. He'd managed to block it out until the job was done, but when he'd answered the phone, he knew.

His brain had some excellent self-defense mechanisms, though, and he'd managed to convince himself that it was just an anomaly. Knowing Steve he'd stumbled over a crime or something else ridiculous. 

Even when he'd seen the blood, Danny had thought maybe Steve had just been randomly injured. He was Super SEAL, after all--a three inch gash in the arm to him was a paper cut by anyone else's standards. 

Tire marks. Of all things it had been tire marks that had forced his brain to believe what he didn't really even want to consider.

Steve had been kidnapped.

For all the people that they'd pissed off over the years, the list of people with the resources, knowledge and skill to actually kidnap Steve McGarrett was relatively small.

And one person was at the top of the list. 

He'd done it before, in fact, and Danny only hoped that this time around Steve was at least still on the island. Not having to rescue him from enemy territory would be an improvement at this point. The idea that they wouldn't rescue him wasn't something Danny would even consider. He'd lost too much already. 

He wasn't losing the closest family he had left. 

Dangerous path, those thoughts, and he shut them off before they could overwhelm him. Consume him, like a fire that left nothing but charred remains in its wake. Some days his brain still felt like that--scarred, burnt out wood, black and brittle and ready to crumble at the first touch.

But he wasn't going to lose anyone. They'd find Steve. The guy would survive at the center of a nuclear blast. Maybe he had. Maybe that was why he was so strong, he'd soaked in all that radiation and become some mutant human. Danny knew that was a crazy thought, that the mere idea was nuts, but really.

It was Steve. 

Fuck.

It was Steve. Missing. Kidnapped. God knew where going through God knew what.

Danny should have picked him up. They hadn't been carpooling--Steve's word, Danny referred to it more often as 'treating me like your personal driver'--as much since Danny had returned from Jersey. Danny needed some space and for once Steve was respecting that. If Danny had been there, though, Steve might have been safe instead of kidnapped.

"Danny?"

Kono's voice was soft, but urgent. He looked up from where he'd been staring at nothing on his desk. "Yeah?"

"We might have something on a traffic cam. Wanna see?"

"Yeah."

They were looking at a tenuous--and that was being generous--link when Adam came through the door with a solid lead. Anthony Shu and his huge dry cleaning facility. 

Given the size of most dry cleaners Danny had seen, twelve thousand square feet seemed like it left a lot of room for a lot of things that had nothing to do with dry cleaning, and more to do with things like laundering money instead of fabric. 

It also left plenty of room to house a kidnapped cop.

"Let's go," Danny said, heading for the door. 

The lights and sirens were on and the Camaro's gas pedal was to the floor, but it still felt like an eternity before they made the relatively short drive over to Makaloa. The dry cleaner was about halfway down the small stretch of road, and Danny wasted no time in getting out of the car, motioning for the team to follow.

None of the workers challenged them as they moved quickly through the legitimate side of the business. It wasn't until they reached the back of the building that someone tried to stop them. 

The jolt of pain through Danny's fist when he punched the guy out was more satisfying than it probably should have been. 

The real challenges came when they got through the door. Danny pushed on, not really caring who got in the way. The familiar scenario of stairs and a gunfight to get down them lay in the back of his head, in that dark space where the voice lived that told him Steve was as dead as Matt. 

He refused to give in to that voice. This was Steve, who'd survived kidnap and torture by Wo Fat once already, who'd barely escaped from the Taliban with his head still attached to his shoulders. For all that shitty things happened to Steve, he seemed to be charmed when it came to getting out of impossible situations with his life. 

He was alive; Danny just had to find him. They were clearing rooms as fast as they could, taking down various people who were foolish enough to try to stop them as they went. The rooms were normal enough for a place like that, until Danny opened the door on a room with no windows, and no furniture, nothing but white walls, floors and ceilings. 

He'd heard about rooms like this, and didn't like to think what this one was for, not if Steve was--

An object on the floor caught his eye, and Danny bent down to pick it up. A white tank top, the same brand Steve wore--Danny had seen them in his desk, had been with him when he'd bought some more than once.

It didn't mean anything--they were popular on the islands. It could belong to anyone. Just because it was Steve's size didn't mean shit.

But that buzz that he'd had since they'd gotten down the stairs, the one he couldn't explain, told him this was Steve's, and that he was close. 

He went back into the hall, not quite meeting anyone's eyes as they moved on to the next room. Eight rooms later, Danny opened a door to a sight right out of his nightmares. Steve lay on the floor, unmoving, a gun halfway out of his outstretched hand. 

Danny spared a glance for Wo Fat, finally where he belonged--on the ground with a bullet in his head --but his real attention was on Steve, so still and unmoving.

"Steve," he said carefully, waiting for Steve to move. A twitch, a cough, anything--some sign that he was alive.

The bastard remained totally still.

Danny moved faster once he passed Wo Fat--the team would make sure there weren't any other threats, but Danny needed to get to Steve. He knelt down, touching Steve, something unclenching in his heart just a little as Steve started and sat up.

***

Steve jolted awake, every muscle aching as it tensed up to continue the battle. Instead of punches or needles or cattle prods, however, it was a pair of friendly hands that woke him. Cops, he realized, from HPD. Captain Kelly and Danno, right, he knew them. They worked with his father. 

"Where's my father?" Steve asked. His dad should've been there, leading the charge to find him. "I wanna see my dad."

Their expressions worried him. Had his father's injuries held some hidden problem? Had something else happened? Everything was so fuzzy, it was hard to remember exactly what _had_ happened. 

After a moment, Danno said, quietly, "Buddy, your dad died four years ago, okay?"

The words made no sense. He'd just seen his dad, he'd just been with him on the beach behind the house not long before. How could his dad have died four years ago? 

But if he'd just been with his father, how was he here? And why was he wrung out, feeling like he'd gone twenty rounds with a wild boar?

Memories flooded back, fractured images all out of order, but enough that he pieced together reality. Right, Hesse killed his father. This was his task force come to save him. His team, his ohana. 

"Yeah," Steve said, to let Danny know he remembered. But he remembered too well, and it was like it was all happening all over, and all at once, like getting his dad back and losing him again, and he couldn't stop the tears, no matter how fast he tried to put a lid on his emotions.

He grounded himself in the feel of Danny's hand on his neck, in the solid reality of Danny's warmth at his side, in Chin's presence close on his left and in Kono watching carefully from just behind Danny. 

Steve grit his teeth. "Let's go," he said, letting Danny and Chin help him up. He couldn't leave, though, not without stopping to commit the scene to memory, to add that solid image of Wo Fat, finally out of his life, finally unable to cause him or anyone he cared about more pain. 

Steve tried to picture his mother holding Wo Fat as a baby. He tried to imagine her, arms outstretched, as a tiny version of Wo Fat ran to her. Pictured her leaving Wo Fat, the same way she'd left Steve, Mary and their father. 

So much pain and suffering that could have been averted if only once she'd chosen to stay instead of running and hiding, following orders, and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

He didn't regret his choice today. Letting Wo Fat live was not an option. 

He just wondered if his mother ever regretted any of hers. 

***

He didn't argue when Danny and Chin led him straight to the ambulance. The bright flashing lights hurt his head, and he needed the support of Danny and Chin a lot more than he'd liked just to stand, let alone walk. 

The stretcher they put him on actually felt good, soft surface and clean, cool sheets against his skin, such a stark contrast to the last few hours. Or however long it had been--time was still this weird, fluid thing where one minute he was in reality, Danny by his side, his hand on Steve somewhere constantly, despite the EMTs fussing around him. The next he was back in some alternate world where his dad was alive. 

Fuck. His dad was dead. 

Steve tightened his mouth and swallowed down the wave of feelings that threatened to escape. He'd learned to live with that once. He could do it again. He just needed to be stronger. 

Steve focused on the feel of Danny's hand, on the right side of Steve's head now, to stay out of the way of the EMTs, Steve assumed. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Danny's face, upside down, concern quickly hidden behind a crooked smile. "How you feeling?" Danny asked.

Like shit. Everything hurt, from his head to his toes, and twice as bad in between. He was going to be rubbing burn cream into at least six places on his torso for a week, and the side of his head that Danny wasn't touching felt like it was on fire. "I'm okay." 

Danny's laugh had a hint of something other than amusement behind it. "You're okay?" He shook his head. "You're starting to grow actual gills," he said, waving at the left side of Steve's head. "You're okay. Right."

The mention of gills brought back a vivid wave of sensation of a cloth over his face, and water, and Steve closed his eyes, but it didn't stop. Water everywhere, pouring down his throat, he couldn't stop it, there was nothing he could do, he was going to choke to death on it, and he couldn't--

He couldn't stop the coughing fit, no matter how much it made his back feel like it was being pounded by tiny nails all over. Strong hands held him down, keeping him from sitting up, not Danny's hands, though, because Danny's were on Steve's head and face. 

"Steve," Danny said, his voice a near whisper, and Steve opened his eyes, seeing Danny's pinched, drawn expression. "Hey," Danny said, his voice still quiet, somehow making it noticeable among all the noises around them. "You're all right." 

Steve swallowed hard. "Yeah. I'm all right." 

If he said it enough, maybe it would be true.

The stretcher moved, and Danny's hands let go of Steve. He tried to twist around to see where Danny went. "Danny?"

"I'm here," Danny said, as the stretcher bumped and lifted, and Steve saw the inside of the ambulance. But Steve couldn't see him, and he looked around, his heart beating wildly, until he felt Danny's hand take his, and Steve's eyes traveled quickly up his arm to his face. 

Steve fought to control his breathing. "Stay?"

"Not going anywhere." He gave Steve some pale imitation of his normal cocky smile. "Grover's been itching to drive my car, now he gets his wish."

The words didn't quite make sense, but Danny was there, and Steve could feel and see him, he wasn't going to vanish into thin air and be nothing but a figment of Steve's imagination and Wo Fat's drugs, and Steve closed his eyes, holding tight to Danny's hand as he breathed. 

***

The hospital wanted him to stay. 

Steve was adamant about all the ways that was not happening before the doctor had even gotten the words out. He didn't give a fuck about dehydration or a head wound or whatever--he was not staying trapped in a confined bed with IVs sticking in him. Not after today. He'd sneak out if they didn't let him go.

He was tensing up for another fight he wasn't ready for when Danny's grip tightened on his hand. "Can he go home if someone stays with him?" 

Danny, usually the advocate for listening to the doctors, helping--that was new. It made Steve wonder if he was still in that hellhole, drugged up to his hair and at Wo Fat's mercy. Was Wo Fat's death and Steve's rescue just another reality he'd dreamed up, one that was a little more realistic, and therefore his brain accepted more readily? Was Danny's support just a hint from his brain, a way of it telling him this wasn't real and he needed to wake up before he couldn't anymore?

No. This was real life. He took a deep breath, the sharp smell of antiseptic and the other unmistakable odors of hospital combining with the feel of Danny's hand in his, warm and callused, feeling almost a part of him, he'd been holding on so long, too real to be in his head. This was real. This was home. 

"Hey," Danny said, his voice in that careful near whisper he'd been using every time Steve had tuned back in throughout this whole mess. "I need my hand back, okay? Just for a minute, to go talk to the doctor. I'll be right over there," he nodded to the other side of the bed. "Okay?"

Steve blinked, the words not making sense. "Huh?"

Danny squeezed his hand. "You've got a hell of a grip, partner."

"Oh." Steve let go, fighting the rising tide of panic as Danny's hand slipped out of his. He flexed his hand, feeling the cramping ease, wondering just how long and how tight he'd been holding on. He knew it hadn't been the whole time--Danny's hand had been warm on his head as they'd cleaned Steve up and stitched up and tended various wounds. But he'd still been holding on a while. Or maybe it was just the tightness that made it cramp like that. 

His eyes followed Danny as he went over to the doctor, speaking so low that Steve couldn't catch a single word. He could tell, though, that the doctor didn't like what Danny was saying, but after a few seconds, the doctor nodded. Danny smiled and said something else before coming back to sit beside Steve as the doctor left the room.

Steve breathed easier when Danny's hand was back in his, which in itself felt almost like a different reality. He wasn't exactly the hand holding type, but it wasn't that kind of PDA that the Navy drilled out of them early on. It was different somehow.

When he was little, he'd brought a balloon back from a birthday party, bright blue, almost disappearing against the sky because of the color. He'd held onto the string all the way home, into the house, carried it out back to sit and watch it dance against the waves and sky, the play of colors mesmerizing. 

He'd dozed just enough to let the string slip from his fingers and just like that it was gone, beautiful as it disappeared into the sky, but gone all the same. His first lesson in loss, but far from the last.

He squeezed Danny's hand. "Can I go home?"

Danny nodded. "The doc and I made a deal. You can go, provided you listen to every word I say and do everything I tell you. And if you show any signs of problems, we come back." Danny's eyes were serious. "Deal?"

Steve nodded. He'd have agreed to a lot more just to get out of this place, to go home. "Deal."

"Good." Danny's smile still seemed a little off, but at least it was a smile. "He's getting the paperwork. Let's get you into some scrubs so I don't have to arrest you for public indecency when we walk out of here, okay?"

***

The team was waiting when Danny wheeled Steve out in a wheelchair, the scene so reminiscent of the day of the drone attack that he had to wonder again if he was dreaming, if his mind was pulling up happier memories to comfort him because he was still trapped in hell. 

And if he was, what did it say that the memory of being shot in the leg was a happier one? 

Danny's hand was on his shoulder as he wheeled Steve out, the team making jokes for all that he could feel the combination of desperation and relief behind the laughter. Desperation that hadn't yet quite left them from the search, and relief that was over. At least for them. 

Seeing the people he loved, those he'd chosen as family, was soothing, and jarring all at once. The slightly forced laughter felt wrong, another dreamlike moment that caused him to question if he was awake. He focused on Danny's hand, on his presence behind him, real and solid and true. 

Adrenaline had left him, and the hospital had been reluctant to give him anything beyond ibuprofen for pain when the ER tox screen hadn't been able to identify half the drugs already in his system. His body registered how totally pissed off it was at him as he lowered himself into the car with Danny's help. 

The pain was welcome, though. It reminded him this was real, that he was awake, because even his brain couldn't be so fucked up that this would be a dream he'd conjure up to keep himself from going crazy. 

He dozed on the drive home, Danny close enough that, even though they weren't touching all the time, he still managed to keep Steve grounded in reality. His hands were still better, though, a direct link, like a tangible connection to the real world, as Danny helped him into the house and up the stairs.

Steve couldn't even look out behind the house yet, the memory--or faked memory, dream, whatever it was supposed to be called--of sitting out there with his father still too real, too raw, to be able to reconcile the view with what was in his head. Even in the dark, he didn't want to see it. Not yet. 

He took in all the changes to the house, though, the difference in his room, from what it was like four years ago when he'd come home, studied them with a sharp eye looking for anything that might be off. But it was all where it was supposed to be. 

"You want anything to eat before you pass out?" Danny asked. 

Steve shook his head. The idea of swallowing food, let alone having it sit in his stomach, was too much to consider. "I want a shower." 

He was prepared for a fight, but Danny just nodded. "Can you manage yourself?"

Steve thought for a second, then nodded. "If you help with these." He waved a hand at the scrubs--he wasn't sure he'd be able to get his arms up high enough to get the top off without some help. 

Danny stripped him with quick efficiency, and helped Steve into the bathroom, turning on the water and testing the temperature before helping Steve into the shower. "I'll be in the other room," Danny said, starting to go.

Steve's chest tightened, and he swallowed against the rise of panic in his throat. "Danny." When Danny turned, one eyebrow raised, Steve nodded at the toilet. "Can you...." Steve cleared his throat. "Can you stay?"

Danny nodded, closing the lid on the toilet and sitting down. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Steve breathed a little easier as he slid the shower door closed. He could see Danny, more shape and color than anything clear, but still, he knew it was Danny, and that was enough. He let the hot water take a little of the ache out of his shoulders and back, and tried to minimize its sting on the burns on his torso. 

When he felt like he'd washed the combined smell of the battle and the ER off his body, he stepped out to find Danny standing there with a towel. He dried Steve carefully, hands gentle, especially on the wounds and burns, before helping Steve out to the bedroom. 

Steve stood by the bed, the last of his energy gone, leaving everything fuzzy and dreamlike--an unpleasant feeling given everything that had happened that day. Danny helped him into a pair of boxers, then looked up at him, as if judging the need to go back to the hospital. 

"You want anything else to sleep in?"

Steve shook his head. He didn't want anything more constricting him, not tonight. He pushed the covers and sheets down on the bed, would have fallen onto the bed without Danny's hands to help him lower himself into it with a little less impact and jarring to his already aching body. 

When Danny started to pull the sheets up, Steve pushed them down with his feet. "I don't...." He took a deep breath, scrunching his eyes closed. "It's just...."

"Hey." That careful whisper was back, and Steve opened his eyes, just able to make out Danny's face in the moonlight. "It's okay. I get it." 

Steve nodded, grateful. "Can you stay?"

"Can I stay? Try and get rid of me," Danny teased. "I promised the doctor I'd keep an eye on you, didn't I?"

His tone was almost right, and Steve took comfort in the brief semblance of normalcy. "So I'm stuck with you?" Steve said. 

"Afraid so. But I do need a shower," Danny said. "You gonna be okay for two minutes?"

Steve nodded, even though the thought of Danny leaving the room, of having nothing there to anchor him in reality, made his heart beat faster. Apparently he didn't hide it well enough, though, because Danny said, "Minute and a half, tops. Okay?"

With another nod, Steve watched as Danny stripped off his clothes, dumping them in the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. Steve used the sounds to keep him grounded--the water, the shower door, the change in patterns of the water hitting things as Danny moved in and out of it until it shut off, and the door slid again. 

Then Danny was back in sight, and Steve let out a breath, watching as Danny stole a pair of Steve's boxers from the drawer and sat down on the bed next to Steve. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I know I don't have a TV in here, but...." He didn't know how to ask, didn't have the words, but he patted the space next to him on the bed. 

"Yeah, of course." Danny laid down beside him, so close Steve could smell him and feel him, alive and warm beside him, so real it blocked out any possibility that it was a dream. Steve still needed more to ground him, though, reaching out to place a hand on Danny's chest, feeling his heartbeat faint beneath the hair and skin. 

He realized that, despite having had sex more than once, he and Danny had never actually slept together, and now Steve wondered why. Because the heat of Danny, the soft breaths as he settled in, the rise and fall of his chest under Steve's hand, were a better lullaby than the ocean. 

***

_  
Steve's head snapped up, and he looked around, taking in the ugly green walls and dim light. No, this wasn't right, he'd been rescued from this place, he couldn't be here, couldn't be--_

_The door opened, Wo Fat stepping inside, his companion right behind him. "Good," Wo Fat said. "You're awake."_

_"You're dead," Steve said. "You're dead."_

_Wo Fat laughed. "You'd have to get free to make good on that threat," he said, crossing the room until he was out of Steve's line of sight. Everything went fuzzy for a moment, and when it snapped back into clarity, he was standing, his arms locked behind his back, and his feet shackled. There was a collar around his neck with a lead, and Wo Fat was pulling him along, the woman next to Steve, watching him closely._

_"Where are we going?" Steve asked._

_"You'll see."_

_They were suddenly in a loading dock, and Steve frowned, unable to remember how they got there. The light of daybreak was still bright compared to the room where Steve had been kept, and he squinted into it, making out the shape of a box truck. Wo Fat led him into it, locking Steve into a chair in the middle of the back of the truck._

_Only it wasn't a regular box truck, Steve realized. The sides were all plexiglass or something like it, making the world visible to Steve, and Steve visible to the world. It wasn't exactly a secretive way to move Steve, but he didn't question his luck, as Wo Fat closed and locked the back door. Someone would surely see him and he'd be rescued._

_The streets were relatively empty, though, and the few people here and there didn't seem to notice the strange truck at all, didn't see someone locked in the back. He yelled, but it did no good, no one heard him._

_They were in Waikiki suddenly, driving down Kalakaua, near the zoo. Steve saw a family on the beach, realized it was Chin and Malia and two toddlers, laughing as Kono jumped up, her pink bikini painfully bright, grabbed her board and ran out to the surf._

_He yelled again, but they didn't notice, and the truck drove on by, only to stop at a stoplight where a couple waited to cross. Steve looked closer, realizing it was Danny and Rachel, too caught up in their own laughter and kisses to notice the light had changed._

_Steve yelled louder, but it did nothing, and they looked up and saw the light, and started to cross the road, walking away._

_"Danny! Danny! Come back!"  
_

Steve sat up in the bed, feeling strong hands on both his arms, as if trying to contain him. He fought against it until the urgent whisper finally reached his brain. "You're okay, you're home, stop fighting me," Danny said. "Come on, Steve. Calm down."

Danny. Right. Steve stopped fighting. He was home, he was safe there with Danny. And Wo Fat was dead.

And so was Dad.

He couldn't stop the tears then, the ones he'd held in since Danny had reminded him his dad had died. He felt the world tilt sideways and realized that Danny was pulling him back down onto the bed, into his arms, while Steve couldn't help crying, even as he knew he was probably soaking Danny's chest. 

His dad was dead, long gone and buried, Steve remembered it in full detail, from the crack of the gun over the phone to the crack of the salutes at the funeral, each one straightening his spine and shoring up his strength at the time, but gutting him further now with the memory of every single shot. 

His dad was dead. 

And his mother was running--would probably never come back, not if she thought Steve knew the truth now. He thought maybe it was better if she didn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why she'd made the choices she'd made. Or whether or not she regretted them. 

Maybe it was better just not to know. 

He needed to stop. Crying wasn't helping, and he knew it was worrying Danny, who almost never saw him cry. He'd mocked him once about it, years ago, halfway through a fifth of whiskey they were sharing late one night, about being a robot with defective tear ducts. At the time, Steve had been proud of his strength.

Now he just marveled at his own ability to shove things down and not deal with them. He almost wished for it again, wished he didn't have to feel this pain that was like something splitting him in two, but at the same time he felt a little like the tears were washing some of the pain away. 

He sniffed, wiping his eyes and rolling onto his back. He felt Danny moving, and a moment later a wad of tissues appeared in front of Steve's face. 

Steve took them and blew his nose, tossing them onto the other nightstand to deal with later. He lay there in silence for a minute or two, getting his breathing back under control and trying to stuff what was left of his guts back inside his body. 

He felt Danny move again and opened his eyes to see Danny propped up on an elbow beside him, face half shadowed, half open in the moonlight. "You okay?" he asked in that whisper.

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, deliberately. "No." Because Danny deserved honesty after all this. "But I will be."

"Think you can get back to sleep?" Danny asked. When Steve didn't answer right away, Danny said, "I know it's tough, with....everything all jumbled around up here," he tapped the side of his head, his eyes somewhere around Steve's navel, "but it'll help you deal if you can sleep.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I need to at least try." 

"Good."

Danny lay down on his back, his arm touching Steve's as they laid there and breathed. Steve realized now why Danny had fought for him to leave the hospital. It wasn't just being trapped there with IVs and memories. 

He'd known what the night would be like.

He knew the kinds of demons that attacked in your sleep after something like this, knew Steve would do better with someone there to fight off the nightmares, and like the world's best partner, had been there to have his back. 

But who'd done that for Danny?

Steve's tears threatened to start again at the thought of Danny waking up like that alone after Matt. But tears wouldn't help anyone on that front. And Danny had pulled away, hadn't wanted anyone around, preferring to lick his wounds alone.

Steve had always been the same, before he'd come back and settled into his old home and made a new family, before he'd actually started to deal with some of the loss in his life. Even tonight he'd probably have preferred it if he hadn't been so terrified that he'd lose himself to that bizarre other world he'd dreamed up without Danny to anchor him. 

He was glad now, though, that he'd needed that, glad that Danny was here. For both their sakes. 

"Hey, Danno," Steve said, matching that whisper Danny had been using on him, "thanks." 

He could feel how shaky the breath was that Danny drew in. "When I went into that room," he said slowly, "I thought...." 

He didn't have to finish the sentence. Steve knew what he'd thought--he'd thought he would find Steve as dead as Matt. And Steve had seen the bullet graze on his head--he knew how close that had come to being the truth. 

"I know," Steve whispered. "But you didn't. And I'm not." 

So much pain and loss, for both of them. How much more did they have to suffer? But he didn't ask that question, didn't even say anything else. He just rolled over, pulling Danny close, and holding on until morning. 

***


	8. Chapter 8

_  
"Where is he?"_

_Wo Fat's voice was even stronger than his grip on Steve's head as he yanked it back, forcing Steve to look up at him. As if Steve could do anything at this point, so pumped full of drugs he didn't know what was real, let alone how to make his muscles work._

_He was going to die here._

_He was going to die, and Danny was going to find him. Maybe Wo Fat would put him in a barrel, because that would just be about Danny's luck, to find Steve in a barrel, the same way they'd found Matt._

_"Tell me where he is," Wo Fat said again._

_"I don't know. So kill me."_

_Wo Fat laughed. "Not just yet. I think I'll find someone whose potential death might be a little more motivating for you."_

_He let Steve's head go, circling the chair. "Joe White?" Steve stared straight ahead and refused to react. "Or the young Officer Kalakaua? Maybe Sergeant Kelly?" He stopped right in front of Steve. "Or maybe Detective Williams."_

_Steve tensed, even though he tried not to, and it was just enough that Wo Fat caught it, because he laughed. "Detective Williams it is," Wo Fat said, striding towards the door._

_"Don't you touch him!" Steve screamed after him! "Don't you--"  
_

"Steve." Danny's voice, soft and low, familiar as the hands on both of Steve's arms, keeping him from flailing around. 

"Danny?" Steve opened his eyes, blinking at the bedroom. His bedroom, just starting to brighten with predawn light. Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, surprised to realize he was sitting up. "Shit," Steve said into his hand, before flopping backwards onto his pillow.

He opened his eyes after a moment to see Danny studying him. "Bad one this time?"

"Why?"

"Because you were halfway out of bed, yelling."

Fuck. He hadn't reacted that badly in weeks. But then Wo Fat hadn't threatened Danny in his dreams before. 

He didn't want to think about what it meant that the dream was morphing like that.

"Sorry," Steve said again. As if he somehow still needed to apologize after at least a dozen nights of waking Danny like this. As if Danny wasn't still sleeping there any night he didn't have Grace for this very reason.

Not that Danny had said as much. Not that Danny had said anything about it. They hadn't talked about it at all. It had just become the new norm, routine for Danny to stay whenever Grace was with Rachel. If he had Grace, then Steve had dinner with them more often than not before going home, and when Steve woke up from a nightmare, there was invariably a text either already waiting, or within a few minutes. And a phone call often followed.

He'd been afraid to ask Danny if he'd put a camera somewhere in the room just to monitor him.

"Hey, Steve, you with me?"

Always that same, soft voice, every night, either in person or over the phone. "Yeah," Steve said, rubbing his face again. "Sorry, just...sorry."

"There are a lot of things you should absolutely apologize for," Danny said, "chief among them how you never let me drive my car, but this is not one of them." When Steve didn't respond, Danny leaned down, his face inches from Steve's. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I got it." He didn't, though. He had no translator for this strange language Danny had been using lately. It was like English, but not--the words were familiar, but the meaning was somehow not quite right. 

Danny muttered something, but he seemed satisfied enough to flop back on the bed. Steve glanced at the clock, watching as it turned from 5:25 to 5:26. "I'm not getting back to sleep," he said finally, shoving the sheet off him and getting out of bed. 

"You want some breakfast?" Danny said around a yawn.

"No, I'm gonna go for a swim. Get some more sleep. I'll fix something when I come back."

He grabbed his trunks and went downstairs, changing in the downstairs bedroom and grabbing a towel before heading out to the beach. The water was warm, embracing him, washing away the memory of harsher uses for it a little more each time he was out here. This was the ocean that had comforted him after loss throughout the years; he wasn't losing that to a memory.

For a long time it was the only comfort he had. 

Now, though...there's Danny. Steve had seen the dark shadows for weeks after Danny had returned from New Jersey. He knew Danny wasn't sleeping through the night now, but the shadows were getting better. How little sleep had he been getting before if this was better?

Was that the reason he stayed without being asked, without discussing it? Because as weird as it probably seemed to anyone on the outside, it didn't feel weird. And Steve remembered the weeks of sleepless nights as he'd grappled with various losses; he was fucking grateful that Danny was there to at least let him sleep some this time.

He just hadn't considered that Danny might be getting some of his own healing from their odd little arrangement. 

He should've seen it, should've pushed his way in without asking, the way Danny was doing now. This was Danny--he didn't know how to ask for help any more than Steve did, and he wasn't shy about pushing Steve without being asked. He also didn't complain when Steve did the same--well, he complained, he complained a _lot_ , but he never meant it. 

It was part of why they worked.

They knew without asking what each other needed, from sex to a shoulder. Not that they'd had sex, which was just another one of the oddities of this whole thing. But maybe that's how that worked, too, one or the other, anger needing a different outlet than pain. 

It was one of those things he didn't want to examine too closely. Why fix what wasn't broken?

He cleared his mind and focused on his strokes, his own mental exercise to go along with the physical, repairing his mind as well as his body from the abuse it took as the sun rose over the ocean. 

***

The sun was warm and bright by the time Steve got back to the beach. He dried off as he walked through the grass to the lanai. By the time he was in the dining room, the scent of breakfast drew him into the kitchen.

Danny was at the stove, watching a frying pan like he was auditioning for Iron Chef. Steve draped his towel around his shoulders and leaned against the fridge, watching for a moment before saying, "I thought you were going to get some more sleep."

"I tried," Danny said, looking over his shoulder, "but I couldn't, so I got up. Figured I'd make breakfast when I saw you heading back.

So he'd been awake all this time and watching. He didn't look as if he was exhausted, though. If anything there was a light in his eyes that had only lately started reappearing, set off by the bright morning sunlight and the deep blue of his shirt--one of the ones that had migrated to Steve's closet without discussion. It made sense--Danny was waking up there half the time, why wouldn't he have some clothes that stayed there? 

"Have you managed to successfully mangle the eggs yet?" Steve asked, getting a bottle of water out of the fridge. 

"Mock me and I will not let you taste my culinary genius, my friend."

Steve laughed, but the truth was that Danny had become a much better cook, and Steve had benefitted greatly from it the past few weeks. Danny might think there was something wrong with him if he admitted it, though, so he kept his mouth shut.

"I see you don't have a comeback for that one," Danny teased.

Steve shrugged as he downed the water. "I'm hungry," he said, tossing the bottle in the recycling bin.

"Here," Danny said, handing Steve a coffee mug. 

After one sip, Steve's eyes widened--Danny had broken out the French press and everything. "What's the special occasion?" Steve asked between sips.

"It's breakfast," Danny said. "We get that just for waking up in the morning."

Which sometimes was a feat in itself, just to make it through the night and get out of bed the next day, so Steve supposed that could be a special occasion. He still felt like his English filter--or maybe it was just his Danny filter--was slightly off or something, but they'd been doing just fine not talking about anything. 

Besides, he liked seeing Danny looking happy.

"You cook like this every morning," Steve said, "you'll make someone a great wife." 

The joke left an odd taste in his mouth, but Danny just laughed. "You're hilarious," he said, backhanding Steve on the arm gently on the way to the fridge. "Go sit down. I'll bring the food."

Steve tried to find something to say in return, but couldn't, so he gave up and did as he was told. 

***

Danny cursed the early lunch traffic as he waited to turn onto Beretania. He'd hoped to make it to his house and the dry cleaner's in time to be at HQ before the traffic got annoying, but they'd taken longer at the Kealoha house than planned.

At least his suit would be nice and clean for the wedding tomorrow. 

Steve's paranoia over his aunt's fiancé was not exactly unexpected, given the number of family members telling him the truth was pretty low. If he was Steve he'd probably be wearing a tin hat by now. The fact that Doris was still hiding from him didn't help matters--if Steve didn't get some closure on that front soon, he'd be in danger of turning into Jerry.

Not that Danny wasn't doing his best to help. He'd pretty much moved into Steve's part time without asking, because he'd known what was coming, and he'd also known Steve wouldn't ask or tell unless Danny forced it out of him, or was there to see it.

And he was done watching Steve walk around like a zombie for a few months after catastrophes. 

Danny felt better doing something for someone he cared about--it was a nice distraction. A different one than the bouts of sex they'd been using for temporary distraction, but one that was more sustainable and long-lasting. 

Sex was fleeting. 

He pulled into his spot and jogged up the front sidewalk, mulling over the Kealoha case until bright red hair caught his eye. "Deb?" Danny called out to the couple on the steps.

She turned, a smile lighting her face, reminding Danny of her nephew. "Danny!" Deb said, leaning in to give him a hug. "It's so lovely to see you again."

"You, too," Danny said, looking expectantly at Leonard. 

"This is my fiancé, Leonard," Deb said. "We're getting married tomorrow--did Steve tell you?"

"Oh yeah, I just took my suit to the cleaners so I'll look nice for it." Danny shook Leonard's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too." 

Leonard's handshake was firm, and wow, Steve wasn't kidding about the hands. Smooth as a baby's bottom. "Wow, that's some smooth hands you've got there," Danny said, fishing as delicately as he knew how. "You're gonna have to tell me what kind of lotion you use."

"You'll have to ask the lady on the ship," Leonard said.

"What?"

Deb stepped in. "I insisted we get mani pedis the last day on the ship in preparation for the wedding."

Okay, Danny knew guys like Leonard--his dad had friends that could almost be the guy's clone. And if he sat through a mani pedi, he must be in love. "How sweet," Danny said. "Sounds like the cruise had everything."

He listened to Deb extolling the virtues of the ship as he escorted them through security and to the offices, almost falling all over himself to explain the soft hands to Steve. The guy had enough to worry about, hopefully this would take one thing off his plate. 

Steve did look a little relieved at hearing the story, so Danny counted it as a win and went back to focusing on their new suspect. He waited until they were driving out to talk to Tai, Steve deciding to take his truck for once, to ask, "So, feel better about Leonard yet?"

"I don't know, man." The words were slow and halting. "Something still seems off." 

Danny took a deep breath. "Maybe nothing's off," he said carefully. "Maybe it's just...." 

Steve spared him a glance. "Just what?"

"Nothing." Danny nodded up ahead. "There's the rental place."

***

Tai Gable was a total brain trust, but once Danny met Tai's mother, he could at least see why. But understanding the reason he was the way he was didn't help their case any. Nor did the discussion on the way back to the car.

Steve's phone rang with what Danny hoped was a lead as he got into the car. It became obvious that it as a lead, just not on their case.

It was going to be really hard to break Steve of his borderline paranoia when he kept ending up being right. 

Sure enough, the first thing Steve said after hanging up and getting into the car was, "I was right." 

"What, when you took off without me at the scooter rental and left me to the mercy of Grover's driving?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Will you let that go?"

"Grover's driving, Steven. He makes you look like Mario Andretti."

Steve gave him a glare and long-suffering sigh. "That was Jerry on the phone."

"Yeah, I heard. Leonard's a lawyer?"

"Mob lawyer," Steve said, starting the car and peeling off with more speed than was really necessary. 

That explained the soft hands. "Who was he with?"

"The Leone family. He got Gino Leone off of three murder charges in ten years."

"Judging from what I heard of the conversation, it wasn't just his silver tongue that did the job?"

Steve gripped the wheel harder as he took a turn faster than Danny's stomach liked. "FBI wire tap has the Leone brothers talking about Leonard destroying a murder weapon."

"Okay. That doesn't mean he did it."

"Danny--"

"No, listen to me for a minute, okay? Two mob guys say on a wire tap that Leonard destroyed the murder weapon. They are not exactly what we would call star witnesses."

Steve rolled his eyes. "What reason would they have for saying it, then?"

"I don't know. Maybe they knew they were being recorded and trying to implicate him instead because he wouldn't do it. Or maybe they're idiots. My point is, just because they said it doesn't make it so."

He could see Steve trying to control his emotions before Steve finally said, "Okay, so then why is he lying to Deb?"

"Because he loves her?"

"And people lying to those they love never ends badly, right?" 

Yeah, this was going well. "Look, think about this like a cop, okay?" Danny said. "What's his motive?"

"Motive?"

"Yeah. If he's doing this, he must want something, right? Does your aunt have any money?" 

"Not enough that would matter, and she doesn't have a big insurance policy or anything." 

"Then why is he doing this? Other than love?"

Steve sighed and watched the road, McGarrett speak for 'I don't have an answer.'

"The guy's dying, Steve. And he wants to marry the woman he loves before he does. People have lied for a lot less."

"Yeah," Steve said after a moment.

"So you gonna tell her?"

Steve glanced at him. "I have a choice?"

 _There's always a choice_ , Danny started to say, but he thought about who he was talking to, and realized that no, there really wasn't. Steve wasn't wired for this to be a choice--his parents had seen to that.

***

" Leonard isn't lying to me. I've been lying to you."

The words didn't make sense at first, but once they fell into place, he wasn't even that surprised. Lying did run in his family after all. Though she of all people should know how he felt about lies--the first thing she'd told him was that she didn't know where Doris was. Assuming that was true. 

But no, he knew she wouldn't lie about that. She had her limits. 

And her disappointments, he realized, as he listened to her talk about the things she'd missed out on. He got it, he did--she had finally found love and she had so little time left to enjoy it, she'd just wanted to avoid the inevitable fight Leonard's past would cause. 

He didn't like it, but he got it. 

"Steve, the one thing I never gave up on was love," Deb said. "And I guess it never gave up on me, either, because here he is. At long last." Her smile was radiant. "And now, you know, I can leave this earth, knowing that I have experienced the most profound and life-altering thing a person can. I just hope that someday you'll know how wonderful that feels."

She took his hand. "Steve, you're so willing to risk your life. When are you gonna be willing to risk your heart?"

"I did."

"Then where's Catherine?"

He'd been dreading this. He told her the short version of what had happened, and that Catherine was not coming back. She'd been very clear about that, and about Steve's need to move on. He thought about asking Deb what it was about him that made the women in his life choose dangerous jobs in foreign countries over facing him, but decided that might sound a little melodramatic. 

And he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

He didn't want the sympathy in her eyes or her voice, either, as she said she was sorry. Didn't need it, in fact. He told her he'd trusted his heart, but the truth was, he hadn't. He'd kept part of it locked away, safe and sound, so it couldn't get hurt. He always did. She hadn't had his whole heart. He wasn't sure anyone ever would.

Maybe he wasn't built for that level of trust.

 _You trust Danny with everything_ , the little voice in his head said. Which was true. But that was different. Danny wasn't a risk. Danny was incapable of hurting Steve--he'd proven it time and time again. He'd defied Rachel to stay and help Steve when he was in trouble, then he'd defied her again to keep Grace and himself on the island. 

Danny wasn't going to desert him, he knew that like he knew his own name. But that wasn't about love or a leap of romantic faith or something with hearts and flowers. 

That was just incontrovertible fact. 

***

They said their goodbyes to Travis and Jake, and a slightly more stiff goodbye to the lawyer--Steve still wasn't sure the guy hadn't at least known what Kate had been planning. He thought about ways to prove it all the way to the car, but came up with zero.

"What?" Danny said, as Steve pulled out into traffic.

Steve glanced at him. "What what?"

"That face. What's up?"

Steve sighed. "I just don't get how a mother could love her kids so much, and yet understand them so little. Those kids would've lived in a two bedroom apartment and not complained once if it meant keeping their parents. And she took that away from them for money."

"Most parents are hardwired to protect their children," Danny said slowly. "But that doesn't mean they always make the right decisions. Babies don't come with manuals." He shrugged. "Screwing up doesn't mean they don't love their kids."

Steve studied him for a moment. "I wasn't talking about Doris."

"Did I say you were?" At Steve's look, Danny frowned. "Did Deb have info on her?"

"No. Before I could even ask she told me she didn't know where Doris was." Steve tapped the steering wheel a few times, checking the rear view mirror with more care than it probably needed. "She has to know he's dead," he said finally. "Wouldn't that make it safe for her to come back? She could lie to me about the connection, and I'd never know--at least as far as she knows. Right?"

"Maybe not," Danny said. "She doesn't know what he might have told you. She doesn't know what she'd be facing if she came back."

"She knows she'd be facing a son who wants to see her."

Even to his own ears his voice sounded hoarse. He turned on the radio to cover the sound and changed the subject before Danny could say anything else.

***

Steve was just getting out of the truck when Danny pulled up to the house, despite Danny leaving first. He'd said he had to run an errand, and Steve figured he knew what it was when he saw the dry cleaning bag Danny pulled out of the back seat. 

"What's in the bag?" Steve asked.

"My suit for the wedding. Just picked it up--all nice and clean for tomorrow." 

"There's plenty of room in the closet upstairs," Steve said as he unlocked the door, "if you want to hang it up."

Of course, several of Danny's shirts were already in the closet, so he knew how much space there was. Steve just wanted to make sure he knew he was welcome to the space he'd already taken up and more. 

He didn't know how else to say thank you, since he suspected Danny would have the same view of that that he did of saying I'm sorry. 

"Thanks," Danny said, heading up the stairs. "What's for dinner?"

Steve thought about the energy it would take to actually make something. "Pizza?"

Danny looked down from the landing. "No pineapples."

"Have I ever forced you to eat pineapples on pizza? Other than making you try it once, just to say you did?"

"No, but it's you. Who knows what you might decide to do at any time? It's important to reinforce the limits." 

Steve shook his head. "Go hang up your suit. I'll order the pizza."

He pulled out his phone, flipping through the contacts. Only when he'd hit dial did it occur to him how good the routine they had felt. Normal, almost. 

"JJ Dolan's, how can I help you?"

Steve put the other thoughts out of his head and focused on food.

***

_  
The door opened, and Steve saw Danny get shoved through, Wo Fat right behind him, a gun pointed at Danny's head._

_Fuck. He hadn't wanted to pull Danny into this. "Wo Fat, I swear, I will kill you."_

_Wo Fat just laughed. "And yet I am the one with the gun," he said, shoving Danny to his knees, facing Steve, less than a foot away. "No more games, McGarrett," Wo Fat said. "Where is my father?"_

_"I told you, I don't know."_

_"Wrong answer." Wo Fat put the gun to the side of Danny's head. "Where is my father?"_

_"You kill him, and I will make you die the most painful ways I can possibly imagine."_

_Wo Fat looked unimpressed. "You have to the count of five. One."_

_"I swear to you, you will pay!"_

_"Two. Three."_

_"Let him go! I don't know where your father is!"_

_"Four."_

_"I don't know!"_

_"Five."  
_

The crack of the gun woke Steve, and he looked around wildly, seeing Danny right beside him, sitting up, whole and unharmed. Steve let out a shaky breath, taking several more before they even started to calm down. 

"You okay?" Danny asked after a minute.

Steve nodded, rubbing his face with both hands before looking up at Danny. "I'm okay." 

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No," Steve said. "But not talking about it doesn't seem to be helping, so...." Steve sat up, the change in angle allowing him to see more of Danny's face in the moonlight. "The last couple nights it's been Wo Fat trying to get me to tell him where his father is."

"Is it like it happened, or different?"

Steve wondered at the question. "It's different. He...he keeps threatening you," Steve admitted in a low voice. "Trying to use you to get me to tell."

Danny nodded as if that made perfect sense. "After...after Colombia," Danny said, the words halting, "I had a lot of dreams. Still have them, but not as many. Most of them involved Reyes using other people to try to get me to find the money. Grace, my family...you."

"How did you make them stop coming all the time?"

"Time." Danny gave a half shrug. "And they don't seem to really hit when I'm here." 

So he really was waking up with his own nightmares on the nights he was texting from home, then. "I can't decide if that makes me feel better or worse about waking you with mine."

Danny's smile flashed in the moonlight for a second. "Come on," he said, dragging Steve back down onto the bed. "We actually have time to catch a little more sleep before morning."

Steve shuffled around, settling in when his arm was pressed against Danny's from shoulder to wrist. The contact helped, almost as if some of the pain was seeping out of him and into Danny. It was easier and more painful than the other times, when he'd soldiered through deaths and loss. He was feeling the pain this time, and it hurt like hell. But the conduit to Danny was like some sort of painkiller, taking it away bit by bit over time. 

He might be new to the concept of sharing his pain, but he thought maybe he could get used to it, if this was the result.

_I can leave this earth, knowing that I have experienced the most profound and life-altering thing a person can. I just hope that someday you'll know how wonderful that feels._

Deb's words about Leonard floated through his mind, suddenly making more sense. It wasn't the same, this thing with Danny. There were no hearts and flowers, no romance, none of those things entered into it. But Danny had definitely altered his life in ways that Steve hadn't expected, had thought he didn't even want. 

And his life was better for it.

***

"Deb looks happy." 

Danny's voice sounded a little wistful. Steve watched Deb dancing with Leonard, their cheeks pressed together, and understood why. They looked more than happy. They looked ecstatic. The picture of storybook love, minus the happily ever after, at least long term.

But it didn't seem to bother them. 

"Yeah, she does. I hope they get some good time together."

The song ended, and Deb gave Leonard a kiss and headed for Steve and Danny's table. "Sorry," she said, as she sat down. "If I'd been thinking, I would've invited some of the pretty girls who were on our cruise so you fellas would have someone to dance with."

"That's okay," Danny teased, "if I get really desperate I'll just ask Steve." He stood. "I'm going for a drink--would you like one, Deb?"

"Champagne, please?"

Danny nodded and walked off. Steve watched him go, buzzed a little on the combination of alcohol and the nice evening they'd had so far. No cases, no nightmares, just a celebration of family and love.

He turned, frowning at the look on Deb's face. "What's that look?" he asked.

She shook her head, her face smoothing out into a smile. "I was just wondering if you were going to take my advice."

"Huh?"

"Look...Mary told me a little about how you got that new scar," she said, pointing to the scar she'd so carefully covered with makeup so he wouldn't ruin her wedding pictures. "And I know you've had a few other close calls. So I'm here to tell you, kiddo, if you find love, don't fight it. No matter where you find it."

"That's a pretty big if."

"Is it?"

Before he could try to get her meaning out of her, Danny returned, a glass and two bottles in hand. He gave Deb the champagne, and put a Longboard in front of Steve before taking his seat. "We drink too many more of these," Danny said, "and we'll be staying at the hotel tonight."

"I'm fine," Steve said.

"This is your fourth," Danny replied. "Do we need a reminder of the staple gun incident?"

"That was six beers," Steve said. "And besides, I'm not driving a staple gun. I'm not driving anything for a while yet."

He saw the light in Danny's eyes, then, realized Danny was just having fun winding him up in front of his aunt. "And really, do you want to talk about the picture hanging incident?"

"No," Danny said quickly. "No, I do not."

"That's what I thought."

Deb was laughing at them. "The pair of you...."

"What?" Steve asked, because that tone was still there that he couldn't quite figure out.

"Nothing." Deb stood up. "The bride shouldn't sit out more than one song at her own wedding," she said, holding out a hand to Danny. "Care to dance?"

"Absolutely."

Steve watched them go out to the floor, saw Deb lean in and say something that made Danny laugh and look over at the table. He thought about worrying about what she might have said, but he was having too good a night to bother. 

If Danny was laughing, it couldn't have been that bad.

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously was beginning to think this chapter would never happen. Thanks to the people who encouraged me in writing it, you helped more than you know! :) Hope it was worth the wait.

Steve added his goodbye as Danny ushered Max out of the house. He was the last one, Grace having even left with Rachel to open presents early the next morning before Rachel left for Vegas, and it left them alone for the first time since Danny's return from the Big Island, and Steve was more than a little apprehensive about it. 

It's not like he could've missed Pua handing Danny a ticket. Or Danny's glare at Steve that had followed. He'd thought about leaving early, but couldn't bring himself to do it. So he'd decided to stay, and he'd take whatever yelling Danny wanted to do.

He didn't have to wait long.

Danny went over to where he'd put the ticket and picked it up, handing it to Steve. "Break out the bank, buddy," Danny said, an edge to his voice. "You need $1200."

"I need $1200?" Steve said. 

"Yes, you. _I_ told you not to take the tree. _I_ told you not to make me an accessory to the crime. So _you_ will pay the fine."

Steve took the ticket. "I'll take care of it."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "No, because see, I know what 'take care of it' means. It means you go talk to the Governor and you get the whole thing erased and you get away without consequences."

"Danny, I--"

"No." Danny stepped in closer, leaning up to get into Steve's face. "You don't _think_ Steve. You just do things. You want to protect people, but you do these things and people end up getting hurt!"

Steve knew Danny's bluster from his real anger, and this was the one hundred percent Grade A real stuff. "Danny," Steve said, hands on Danny's shoulders, "I just--"

"No!" Danny shoved Steve away, advancing until Steve backed into the wall. " _You_ do these things, and I sit by and I let them happen, and then _I_ become an accomplice, and it stops, do you hear me? It ends here!"

"Okay," Steve said, doing his best to be placating. "Okay, look, Danny, just--"

"You don't get it, do you?" Danny continued, like he didn't even hear. "I follow your lead and people get hurt, Steve! You have _got_ to learn that there are consequences!"

Steve got it. This wasn't about the tree. For all that they'd been skirting the issue, they were enjoying a nice, family Christmas and Danny was just a few months removed from finding what was left of his brother in a barrel. Of putting a bullet between his brother's murder's eyes.

And if Steve hadn't lied to the Feds, Matt might be alive. In prison, but alive. 

"I'll pay the fine," Steve said, hands on Danny's waist, trying to convey calm through voice and touch. "I'll pay it, okay?"

Danny took in a long breath, nostrils flaring. "It's not about the fucking fine," he gritted out through his teeth.

"I know it's not."

He took several more of those breaths, and Steve tried to think of a way to move him without setting him off again. Because Danny's whole body was moving against Steve's with each breath, and that, combined with that look in Danny's eyes, was setting Steve off in ways he didn't need, not now. 

Not with Danny able to feel the reaction.

The anger crumbled away, bit by bit, leaving nothing but pain in Danny's eyes. It was a pain Steve had seen less and less of late, but he recognized it instantly from the way it had Matt written all over it. 

Danny was sucking in breaths again, faster, until he looked like he was going to either hit something or scream. Then his eyes locked onto Steve's mouth, and Steve knew what was coming, and didn't even try to stop it.

This was Danny, and Steve had his share of the blame. He'd do whatever it took to get Danny through it.

Danny's lips were just shy of brutal, an assault Steve was helpless to do anything other than open his mouth and submit to. Their hands scrambled at clothes with no care for whose they were as long as they were both getting naked. Or at least naked enough.

Steve pushed Danny back, aiming for the couch, until one of them tripped over their pants and they landed on the carpet by the tree.

Whatever. More room on the floor anyway, Steve thought, as he rolled until Danny was pinned under him. Their cocks bumped against each other as they moved, the friction sending little shockwaves through Steve's body. 

He lifted his head, seeing the pain in Danny's eyes momentarily subdued by lust, both searching for release. He couldn't do anything about the pain, but the other....

Steve leaned down, lips finding Danny's chin, following it down his neck, and across his chest. Danny's hands grabbed at Steve's shoulders and he lifted up, giving Danny a long look. "Just let me," Steve said softly. 

He wasn't even sure what he was asking, but Danny stopped fighting, watching as Steve lowered his head once more, working his way down to Danny's cock. He remembered the plane back from Colombia better than he probably should--it seemed wrong somehow to take pleasure in something that was only meant to be an outlet.

This was different, though, as he took Danny into his mouth. The plane had been about dominance, about Danny fighting to find anything he could control in a world that had spun so far out of control it seemed like it would never stop.

This was just about Danny's need to forget. And if Danny needed to forget then, fine. Steve would make him forget his own name. 

What were partners for, after all?

Danny tasted every bit as good as Steve remembered, though, and Steve couldn't help but enjoy the taste, the feel of it as he worked his head up and down, Danny's cock fitting between his lips so easily, like this was an every day occurrence. 

Too soon, Danny was straining up, and Steve pulled off, using his hand to finish the job. It was too much, and Steve barely got his hand on his own cock before he was coming, adding to the mess on Danny's stomach. 

Spent, Steve rolled to the side as he fell, landing on his back, his arm pressed against Danny's. He stared at the tree, so colorful, its lights twinkling happily, a band aid for something that needed a tourniquet. 

"I'm sorry," Steve said slowly, pausing to clear his throat. He turned his head to look at Danny's profile. "I'll pay the fine. I just...I just wanted you and Grace to have a special Christmas after...after everything that's happened. The tree was important to you, so, I, uh...I wanted you to have it."

Danny closed his eyes for a moment before turning to meet Steve's gaze. "When we were kids," Danny said slowly, as if he was having to draw the memory out from somewhere deep, "Matt and I snuck out of bed in the middle of the night to see if Santa had brought our stuff yet."

His mouth curved into almost a smile as he remembered. "I was eight, I think? We had this dog, Rufus, that Matt loved to play fetch with, and we went downstairs and were looking at the presents, when Rufus woke up."

Danny shifted, his arm pressing more against Steve's. "Rufus barked at Matt, trying to get him to throw a toy, so Matt did, trying to shut him up. Only he had terrible aim, and it went right into the tree. And so did Rufus."

Steve laughed at the mental image, but also with some relief at seeing Danny laughing about Matt. If he was laughing at the memories, he was getting better. "I'm guessing your parents found out you were downstairs at that point?"

"Oh, man, seriously, you shoulda seen Ma. She was pissed at me, pissed at Matt, pissed at the dog, and then pissed at Pop for laughing."

"I can picture that, actually."

Danny shook his head, the laughter fading, but the smile staying in place. "It was a good Christmas," he said softly. "Even if we didn't get to go outside with our new bikes until after New Year's thanks to that."

Steve watched Danny for a long moment. "I'm sorry," Steve said finally. "If I hadn't lied to the Feds--"

"No." Danny wrapped his hand around Steve's wrist. "Don't. Matt made his own decisions." Danny sighed. "I just have trouble living with that some days more than others."

They lay there for another minute, until Steve thought he'd better get up before he decided to do something stupid. "I should probably get going," Steve said, making himself get up, trying to reassemble his clothing while not quite looking at Danny. 

"You can stay," Danny said, the words offhand. Steve finally looked at him, only to find that Danny wasn't looking back. "I mean, it's late, and...."

Steve swallowed carefully, the instinct to say no, he had to get home overwhelming him because of how much he wanted to stay. Because this wasn't permanent, and he had to be able to stand on his own two feet, nightmares or not. 

And because wanting anything as badly as he wanted to stay never turned out well in the end. 

But he remembered the nightmares, too. On a night like tonight, Danny was likely to have at least one. And he deserved Steve's help, at the very least. 

Steve cleared his throat. "Sure. That'd be great."

***


	10. Chapter 10

Danny gasped as he woke, looking around to ground himself in his surroundings. His bedroom. Right. He was home, in Hawaii, in his room with the depressingly cheerful Hawaiian art on the walls. That was his nightstand, with his badge gleaming in the moonlight. He could just see through the open door to the hall, and he listened for a moment, but there was no sound.

At least he hadn't made any noises during the nightmare that had woken Grace.

He should've known he'd have one after more than a week of full nights of sleep. He owed several of those nights to Steve, but a few had been in this bed, all but one on his own.

The one that wasn't on his own was something he wasn't thinking about. 

He didn't want to think about the dream, either, only remnants remaining now, most of it fading away into the night. It wasn't as if they varied all that much, but the less he thought about it the further away what he couldn't forget seemed. 

Unfortunately, sleep seemed to be getting further away the longer he lay there. 

His fingers itched to reach for his phone--just the act of sending a text to Steve tended to help calm him down even before the inevitable answer that always helped further. But he had to learn to stand on his own sometime. This...whatever they were doing had gone on long enough, and at some point he had to stand on his own at night. They both did. 

He dropped that thought in favor of getting up and going to the bathroom, then padding quietly down the hall to look in on Grace. She was twisted in a sheet, having thrown the rest of the covers off the bed in her sleep, as usual. She swore she needed all those layers when she went to bed, but they never stayed once she fell asleep.

Danny didn't examine that too closely. 

He managed to unmangle the sheet around her without waking her, smoothing her hair back and giving her a kiss on the forehead before going back to his own room. He climbed into bed and turned onto his side, the sight of his phone next to his badge a temptation he didn't want to give into. 

He flipped over, staring at the opposite wall, letting his mind drift, annoyed when it quickly settled on his conversation with Steve about Ellie wanting to set him up. Danny had never understood why people thought anyone single needed to be paired, as though people weren't whole unless they were half of something. 

He liked Ellie. She was smart, and funny, and she didn't seem all that inclined to let Steve get away with his shit, and Danny heartily approved of that trait in anyone. But why she felt the need to meddle in Steve's love life Danny hadn't figured out. That was Danny's privilege, and not one he was inclined to share. 

Besides which, she had no idea what she had walked into. If she knew Steve well enough to know who she should be setting him up with, then she'd know he wasn't ready for a relationship. Or even a date. It had taken Steve years to even sort of admit Catherine was his girlfriend. Her betrayal--Danny could call it that even if Steve never would--had set Steve back ages. 

You had to wonder how a guy like Steve could ever come back from that. 

And it wasn't as if Steve didn't have places to turn without being in a relationship. Danny tried not to look too closely at that, though, because there was nothing to see. It was just...them. That was the only explanation needed.

He flipped over again, closing his eyes, but the remnants of the dream started creeping into shadows on the backs of his eyelids. He opened his eyes again and looked at his phone. He'd only been staring at it for a few seconds when the light blinked, and he reached for it quickly, checking his texts. 

_Did you finish the Kailua case report before we left last night?_

Danny shook his head. Steve knew he'd finished it--he'd signed it before they'd left the office. _Done and signed, remember?_ Danny replied.

_Right. Remember now. Thanks._

Danny rolled his eyes, getting up to close the door to his room before he crawled back into bed and hit the button to call Steve. 

***


	11. Chapter 11

The phone woke Danny at 2 a.m. He knew who it was, even with the phone on vibrate and no ringtone to judge by, and he reached for it instantly, accepting the call without looking. 

"Time zones, Steven," he muttered, then tried to clear the sleep out of his voice.

"Shit, sorry. I didn't think."

Steve could rattle off the time in any region of the world, so either it was bad enough that he wasn't thinking, or he was lying. Neither boded well. "Don't worry about it. Vegas is the city that never sleeps, right?"

"I thought that was New York."

"No, in New York people have this thing called weather that told us when to go inside and sleep."

"So you're saying New Yorkers hibernated all winter?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "What happened with the art case?"

He listened to Steve's story about a theft within a theft before he actually laughed. "The great Steve McGarrett got played--I'm sorry I missed that."

"Yeah, well," Steve said, "you think if you'd been here you'd have caught her?"

There was something beyond the mere challenge in Steve's voice, but Danny wasn't awake enough to figure it out. "Of course."

"Easy words from almost 3,000 miles away, Danno," Steve said with a laugh. "How was Grace's thing?"

"Her squad placed second." Which Steve already knew, because Grace had texted him after the awards. "She was amazing, as always."

"Of course she was. She doing okay?" 

"Yeah. I think she liked having all of us there--me, her mom, Stan and Charlie. We all even went to dinner."

"Seriously? Where?"

Danny sighed, aware of the mockery he'd get for this. "Some Hawaiian place, if you can believe it. Grace's choice."

"Your daughter has refined tastes, Daniel. She must get that from her mother."

"Fuck you."

He heard Steve clear his throat. "So, when are you due back?"

Like Steve didn't know his schedule by heart. "Tomorrow night."

"Need a ride?"

"Considering you dropped us off in my car? Yes."

"Okay, see you at the airport."

Danny hesitated for a second. "You okay?" he asked.

The long pause told him Steve wasn't. "I'll be all right. Go to sleep. Sorry to have woken you."

"Don't be," Danny said softly. "Night."

"Night."

***


	12. Chapter 12

Danny glanced over at the passenger seat to see Grace studying her medal like there was going to be a test on describing it in detail. "I'm so proud of you, Monkey," he said, "did I mention that?"

The smile she turned on him was huge. "Yeah. I know. Thanks for your help, Danno."

"Anytime. I'm always here for you, you know that, right?"

"Of course." 

The tone was enough to reassure him that she knew it like she knew air existed. "So what were you and Sam so deep in conversation about? Were you giving her fitness tips?"

Grace's eyes fell to her medal once more. "No. She just...had some questions."

He recognized that tone, too, and it wasn't as comforting. "About what?"

Grace's eyes darted to his before going back to the medal. "It wasn't a big deal." 

"Grace." She kept looking at her medal. "Hey, look at me." When he finally had her attention, he said, "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" 

"Yeah."

She didn't sound so sure. "So what's going on? What were you and Sam talking about?"

Grace shrugged. "We were talking about being taken. It wasn't anything wrong, just...I know it bothers you when I talk about it."

It took Danny so long to process that statement that he missed the turn to his street. He pulled over on the next block and put the car in neutral, pulling on the brake. "Why...." He stopped to think about how to phrase the question, then decided a question wasn't the way to go. "You can talk to me anytime you want about that, Grace," he said at last. "I don't want you to think you can't."

"I know I can, Danno, it's just...I know it upsets you to think about it. So I don't want to unless it's important."

Damn, she really was growing up. "It upsets me to think about you being upset or hurt," he said slowly, "and that includes trying to deal with anything like that yourself. That's what I'm here for."

"I know." And there was the air exists tone again. "I wasn't dealing with it, though. Just trying to help Sam. I...I know how she feels. And we're kinda like family and should help each other, right?"

His heart actually felt funny for a few seconds, like it was going to flip against his ribcage or burst out of his chest. "You're absolutely right," Danny said. "We should help each other whenever we can." He took a deep breath. "What did Sam need help with?"

"She was telling me about her nightmares, and I told her they'd stop after a while. And she was talking about not wanting to go do things. But I said she had to, that she--"

Grace stopped, twisting her mouth like she wasn't sure about telling the next part. "That she what?" Danny asked.

"That she has to go out and do things or else the bad guys win."

He frowned, trying to figure out why Grace wouldn't be sure about saying that. It's exactly how she should feel. "What did she say?"

"That she wasn't sure her dad would let her when she was ready anyway." 

"I'm sure her dad just wants to protect her."

"Yeah," Grace said slowly, studying her medal once more, "but when she's ready, he's probably going to be too worried to let her do much anyway."

He sorted through that, heart pounding a little harder as he reached the inevitable conclusion, but he asked anyway. "Is that how you feel?" he asked softly.

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "I know it worries you when I want to go do things with my friends," she said, after a moment, glancing up through her lashes. "It's okay. I don't mind." 

But clearly she did, a little. She was just trying not to. "I want you to be safe, Grace," he said, his words quiet. 

"I know. And I don't want to be taken again, either."

He saw the fear in her eyes, warring with the hints of independence he could feel in her other comments, emotions he remembered from twelve going on twenty, no doubt magnified by a much less stable childhood than he'd had. "I'm not going to let that happen," he said. 

"I know."

Her trust was implicit, and it warmed him, especially since she'd been taken as a result of his job to begin with. "What do you say we go home and get you cleaned up and find the right place to hang that medal, okay?"

Her smile came back as she nodded. "Yeah."

***

Danny flipped idly through the channels, listening to the soft patter of the shower in the background, and the louder, slightly off-key sound of Grace's singing. He'd be glad when she was on to a new song obsession, because she might be all about that bass, but he was totally over that bass and ready for it to be buried. 

He never thought he'd miss One Direction, but he was starting to reconsider. 

He kept going back to that conversation in the car. Grace hadn't mentioned the kidnapping in a while, so neither had he. He wasn't about to bring it up if she was getting past it. To hear that she discussed it with Sam...well, it made sense, and he felt a little like an ass for not seeing the connection before, even as he worried about two scared, traumatized kids trying to help each other sort things out. 

Then again, he didn't exactly have the same perspective on what they'd gone through. At their ages, he'd been running all over his neighborhood without worrying about anything happening to him. What could he possibly tell them that they didn't know better in some ways? Even if he'd been kidnapped, shot, locked up, beat up, and a whole other host of things he hoped they never knew about, let alone experienced, it had happened to him only when he'd had experience and training to deal with it. 

How could he know what they were going through? But how could they work through it without the years of life experience to put it into perspective?

For that matter, how was he supposed to put the whole thing into perspective himself and just let her go be a teenager? The thought of her going anywhere without a responsible adult who he may or may not have run a background check on--he had absolutely logical reasoning for running them on all her friends' parents, he did--sent him into full panic mode. 

Maybe he should ease up a little.

Then again, he only had to close his eyes for a second to see her in that storage room, taped to a chair, face dirty and streaked with tears, to hear her screams for months after as she woke from nightmare after nightmare. 

Maybe it's best not to examine that whole thing too closely and keep going on as he has been. It's not exactly as if it's the only area of his life he's just looking at from a distance these days.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, unsurprised to see Steve's name. The guy has eerie timing. "Please tell me we don't have a case," Danny answered.

"No, nothing," Steve said. "I was just thinking--wondering if you and Grace wanted to come have a cookout for dinner. Celebrate her medal a little more."

Danny knew that hollow sound in Steve's voice, could picture him rattling around in his empty house after spending a couple hours in the sunshine with his family and friends. He couldn't say no. Didn't want to say no, either, but that was another fact tossed into the large pile of things he was not thinking about. Not at all. 

"Yeah," Danny said. "That'd be great. Grace is just getting cleaned up, we'll be over soon."

"Tell her to bring her suit," Steve said. "There's plenty of time for a swim." 

"Okay. See you soon."

***

Danny sipped at his Longboard, watching from the lanai as Grace played in the waves. She looked so happy and carefree, it was hard for a minute to remember that she wasn't the same little girl he'd moved to Hawaii to be with. So much had happened, he didn't know how she could still find so much pure joy in an ocean. He was just grateful for it. 

The table jostled a little as Steve sat down next to Danny, his beer clinking weirdly against the wood. "She's a great kid, Danny."

It wasn't the first time Steve had said it, but Danny never tired of hearing it from anyone. "Yeah," Danny said, watching as she dove into a wave and came out smiling. "I'm lucky." 

"You're a good father. That's not all luck."

"Maybe, but with everything she's been through?" Danny glanced at Steve. "I'm lucky."

Steve's gaze was piercing, and Danny knew what was coming, but he waited for Steve to ask. "What happened?"

Danny sighed, taking a long drink of his beer before he answered. "On the way home earlier she told me she and Sam had been talking about being kidnapped--or 'taken,' as she always calls it. Like she's afraid of the word kidnapped or something." He shook his head. "She said...well, she said a lot of things, some that make me think she's working this out okay, but others...."

When Danny took another drink, but didn't continue, Steve's knee nudged Danny's leg. "But others?"

"She said she knows it worries me when she wants to go do things with her friends," Danny said. "But that it's okay." 

"She doesn't want you worried about her."

"But it's not her job to worry about me worrying about her," Danny said. "It's just my job to worry about her."

He heard Steve's soft huff of laughter. A quick glanced showed the serious thought behind the amusement, though. "So basically," Steve said after a moment, "she knows you're overprotective, but she's okay with that, because she worries about you?"

It sounded a little less scary put like that, and yet.... "Yeah." Danny took a drink. "I just want her to be safe and not worry."

Steve watched Grace play for a minute, as he took several drinks of his beer. "I get it," Steve said at last, eyes still on Grace. "But did you ever think," he asked, looking at Danny, "that she might have a point?"

"So, what, you're gonna tell me you know how to raise a kid?" Danny snapped instinctively. "You let a prime grand theft juvie candidate go and got him a job."

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not rattled. "I'm not trying to tell you how to raise Grace," he said, his voice calm. "You're the best dad I know."

"Well, thank you for that," Danny said, refusing to feel guilty about snapping.

"I'm just saying," Steve continued, "maybe you should think about the end result."

Danny blinked at him. "Huh?"

"What do you want Grace to be, Danny?"

"Happy and healthy and safe."

Steve shook his head. "No, I mean, when she grows up, what do you--no, sorry, _how_ do you want her to be? Do you want her to be some woman who's afraid of her own shadow, who locks herself in her room because of the memory of the worst thing that ever happened to her? Or do you want her to go out and live her life in spite of it?"

There was an undercurrent there that Danny couldn't quite follow at first. It took him a moment to realize that Steve probably had more perspective from Grace's point of view than Danny ever could. He didn't dare say it aloud--Steve pushed far too much as it was. If Danny gave him that inch, Steve would have Grace driving race cars by summer or something. 

"I want her to have a life to live," Danny said at last. 

It wasn't an answer, and Steve's smirk told him Steve knew it, too. Knew that Danny was probably agreeing somewhere in his head, even if he'd never own up to it. Might not even be able to act on it. But he agreed, nonetheless. 

"You want another beer?" Steve asked. 

Danny tested the bottle, finding less than an inch left in the bottom. "I need to drive us home after dinner."

"Stay," Steve said with a shrug. 

Danny thought about it. Sunday was usually a lazy day for him and Grace, with a late start and pancakes that served as breakfast and lunch. She'd probably jump at the chance to be able to get up and swim first thing without having to leave the house. She could get used to that. They both could.

"We should probably go."

"It's not like Grace hasn't used my spare room, Danny."

She also had spare clothes because she'd been planning to swim, and Danny was more than familiar with Steve's stock of guest toiletries, so both of those arguments were out the window. 

Danny watched Grace playing in the water again, the sun setting behind her, setting off her smile and making it look brighter somehow. Watched as she lived out in the sunshine instead of locking herself away for fear of something bad.

"Sure," Danny said, finishing off his beer and pushing the bottle across the table. "Thanks."

***


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness--there was a death in my family, so I've been away. Hope that you like, even a little late. :)

Danny slammed the door shut on the Camaro, leaving it just out of the way of the ambulance lane. He hurried through the doors of Tripler, checking the rooms from side to side as if clearing a building. It was a little scary how well he knew where to look. 

Chin had said Steve was fine, that he'd even gotten on a bike and chased down the suspects until he'd hit a dead end. What Chin, and everyone else, seemed to have missed about Steven J. McGarrett, however, was that he was an idiot. He'd chase after the bad guys, even if he had two missing limbs and was seconds away from death.

Danny wasn't ready to lose anyone else. Both Colombia and a certain dry cleaners he'd managed to avoid since Wo Fat's death were still too fresh in his mind. It was like he couldn't breathe properly until he saw with his own two eyes that Steve was alive. 

Even when he found Steve, Danny couldn't help constantly looking at the bandage on Steve's arm. He wasn't even sure what he was waiting for, whether he thought it was going to start spurting blood or his arm was going to fall off. All he knew is that his eyes were drawn to it, even as he focused on catching Steve and Joe up on what was going on in the case. 

Leaving the hospital was a relief, but it was short lived, as Steve insisted on driving, and Danny wasn't about to make Joe climb into the back with that leg, even if he felt like Joe deserved a little suffering now and then. But his kindness left him crammed in the back seat with nothing to look at but Steve's bandaged arm.

He distracted himself by mocking Steve's driving at literally every turn, and a few spots in between, and told his subconscious to shut the fuck up about blood infections and gangrene. 

It was a long drive.

***

Steve's eyes strayed back to the tablet, sitting on the table beside his half-eaten dinner. He'd been watching Joe more than he'd been eating, as if he took his eyes off the screen for a second, Joe would do something to give away the secrets Steve knew he was still keeping.

"And then Grace told me she was pregnant."

Steve's head snapped up, eyes focusing on Danny. "What?"

"Finally, you're here," Danny said. "And by the way, if you ever make me pull something like that out of my head to get your attention, I'm going to just punch you instead."

"I've been here the whole time," Steve said, glancing down at the tablet, but then focusing on Danny again. "And no one made you say that."

"I've been trying to get your attention for an hour."

Steve rolled his eyes. "We haven't even been sitting here an hour."

"Okay, so maybe I exaggerated. A little." Danny took a long drink of his beer, but his eyes stayed on Steve. "You planning to stare at that screen all night?"

Steve shook his head. "He's gotta sleep sometime, right?"

He could see Danny gearing up for something, but there wasn't anything he could do about it--he never could--so he waited. 

"You know that thing's recording, right?" Danny said after a moment. "You can watch a long stretch of it and fast-forward through the boring parts."

"You mean the way you watch The Natural?"

Danny didn't rise to the bait. "What do you think you're going to find on there?" he asked. 

Steve shrugged. "Answers."

Danny studied him for a long time, and Steve forced himself not to squirm under the scrutiny. "I applaud," Danny said finally, "that you are finally doing something about this."

"About what?" 

"About all the people," Danny said slowly, "who have...been less than forthcoming with you."

Steve wasn't used to Danny being careful with his words, and the idea of it made his stomach flip a little. "What do you mean?"

"You're great at fixing broken toys," Danny said, still in that slow, careful tone. "It's just rare that I see you ever apply your skill so close to home."

Steve went over the words in his head, trying to sort out if there was a hidden meaning. "Are you saying I'm broken?"

Danny's laugh was soft, as were his eyes, and something in Steve's gut unclenched a little. "You've taken a few hits, babe," Danny said quietly. "And you don't really stop to patch yourself up. You're usually too busy putting everyone else back together instead."

"You say that like it's the wrong thing to do."

"No," Danny said, shaking his head. "That's not what I'm saying. It is one of the things I...that I admire about you. It's just...you have to find a balance."

Steve studied Danny for a moment. "I'm still trying to decide if that means I should keep watching Joe or stop."

Danny laughed. "Stop," he said. "For now. Finish your dinner, have a drink. The footage will still be there in the morning."

Steve ran his fingers down the side of his beer, just cold enough to keep drinking. "I suppose you're planning to stay and make sure I do as I'm told?"

"Somebody's gotta do it."

Steve glanced at the tablet, then at Danny, before turning the tablet over and pushing it away. "Okay," Steve said. "What am I supposed to do instead of watching that, then?"

"Eat." Danny nodded at Steve's plate. "And then maybe a movie. I hear The Natural is on."

"But you can't fast forward it on TV, Danno."

"Shut up and eat your dinner."

***


	14. Chapter 14

"Seriously?" Danny asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Dekker is Kono's new relationship counselor?" 

Steve shifted, propping the phone against his shoulder as he made himself more comfortable in bed. "Well, apparently it worked. She and Adam are engaged."

"You know she's going to kick your ass for not waiting to let her tell me herself, right?"

"No, she's going to kick your ass for daring to be 5,000 miles away when she got engaged."

Danny laughed. "Not my fault. If it was up to me, this case would never have made appeal."

"How'd it go, anyway?" Steve asked. "Did Franklin's girlfriend cave?"

"Like a house made of wet cardboard," Danny said. "Sampson put her on the stand, let her tell her story full of lies, then put me on. Once I was done, Sampson called her back. I swear, she was already in tears before she even got to the stand. Could barely wait to spill her guts about how he'd threatened her and their kid."

Steve shifted the phone to his other ear. "So, worth the trip, then?"

"Absolutely." 

He heard Danny yawn, complete with that weird popping of his jaw that always made Steve's face hurt. "Not that I'm complaining about the call," Steve said, glancing at the clock to see it was almost eleven. "But isn't five a.m. a little early for you?"

"Late," Danny said.

"Huh?"

Danny sighed. "Haven't been to sleep," he said. "I haven't really acclimated to East Coast time. Thank God I didn't have to testify until two this afternoon or I'd have been screwed."

"Jet lag sucks," Steve agreed. "But the best way to adjust is to force yourself into the new time zone."

"No point, though," Danny said. "I'm on a flight in about forty hours anyway."

Steve frowned, shifting the phone back to the other ear. "I thought you were staying through the weekend to see your family."

"No, I need to get back for Grace," Danny said. "I'll see them all for dinner tomorrow before I leave, though."

Danny's tone reminded Steve of all the times in the past few months where he'd begged off going places, or he'd evaded questions about his family or about Amber. Steve had chalked it all up to Matt's death and all that went with it, but he hadn't expected Danny to actively avoid spending time with his family now, not when he'd started to be more...normal. Well, Danny normal, anyway.

Then again, looking at the difference in Danny now from right after he'd returned from New Jersey in September...his reluctance to stay didn't seem quite so odd. 

"Send me your new flight info," Steve said. "I'll pick you up."

"Happy to," Danny said, "since you have my car." 

"I don't 'have' your car, Daniel. I drove it back to my place and parked it, and it's been here ever since, waiting for you."

There was a moment of silence before Danny said, "Yeah, because you know what would happen if you got so much as a scratch on it while I was gone."

Something was still off about his tone, but it was different this time. Steve couldn't quite put a finger on why, only that it seemed like something he should figure out. "Yeah," Steve said, aiming for normal, "because otherwise the bitching would never end."

"And you would deserve every minute of it, babe." Danny cleared his throat. "Speaking of minutes, I guess I should let you go." 

"I don't have anywhere to be," Steve said, leaving out the fact that he was already in bed. "But I know it's late there."

"Hawaii time," Danny replied. "Remember?"

"Oh, so you've finally adjusted to island time?" Steve asked.

"Shut up."

Steve grinned as he shifted the phone again, reaching out to turn off the lamp, bathing the room in moonlight. "So," he said, settling into the pillow, "did I tell you that Kono shocked our perp into the wall with a defibrillator?"

***


	15. Chapter 15

Steve's phone rang as he pulled a beer out of the fridge, the screen showing Danny's name. Steve tapped the call button and put the phone to his ear. "Hey."

"Do you know what a new cell phone costs?" Danny asked.

Steve thought back, but he hadn't been responsible for damaging Danny's cell phone for at least six months. "I do, actually," he said. "I sign the requisitions, remember?"

"Seven hundred dollars, Steven," Danny said. "Seven hundred. For a phone. That can be destroyed by a drop of water."

"But they don't actually make you pay--"

"Oh, but they do. Just over two years. It's robbery."

Steve popped the top off of his beer. "It's just a phone, Danny."

"No, no, my friend. It's robbery."

"What happened to your phone?"

"Nothing," Danny said, and Steve relaxed just a little, since he couldn't be blamed if Danny's phone was fine. "Grace needed a new phone. Apparently the one she had was 'ancient.'"

Steve could see the air quotes as he took a sip of his beer. "Phones do get old fast," he said.

"I wouldn't know--mine never seem to last long enough to get old."

Steve let that go. "So I take it you got Grace a new phone."

"I did, and she's barely looked at me since. She's had her nose practically attached to her phone screen." 

"It's a new toy," Steve said. "She'll put it down eventually."

Danny huffed. "Maybe long enough to eat."

"So why don't you both come over here and eat? Then she'll have to put it away to be polite." The suggestion was met with silence long enough that Steve said, "Danny?"

"Sorry," Danny said, his voice a little flat. "I was thinking. It's a little late. Grace has school tomorrow, so...."

Steve took a long draw off his beer. "Yeah, of course, sorry," he said, then cleared his throat. "Maybe Saturday?" he said, going for casual, like he didn't know what day it was, but falling short. "Or do you have big Valentine's Day plans?" he asked quickly. 

"No," Danny said, after a slight pause. "I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day this weekend."

"How can you miss that?" Steve asked. "The hearts and flowers are everywhere."

"I've had a few other things on my mind."

Something was off, but Steve couldn't put a finger on it. "So how's Amber?" Steve asked. 

"Fine."

His tone had gone from weird to almost annoyed. "So then you've seen her lately?"

"When I want advice on my love life," Danny said shortly, "I'll ask someone who has one, thanks."

Okay then. Clearly he'd hit a nerve. "Hey, I'm just asking."

"And I'm telling you it's fine. Leave it alone."

"Okay. So, what kind of phone did Grace get?"

***

The second Danny heard Makoni hang up, he knew exactly what Steve was going to do. Because Steve was Steve, and no amount of sanity could reach his fucking brain when someone else was in danger. He'd have laughed at Grover telling Steve to be careful if he'd had the ability, but apparently Steve McGarrett's top-level stupid drove all humor out of Danny's body.

When Steve dropped to his knees, Danny's stomach dropped with him. And for one long second, when Kono's shot hit, and Steve disappeared inside the car, Danny's lungs stopped working. Then Steve was up with Makoni's gun--of course, because he was Steve--and Danny started breathing again. 

They were both quiet for a few minutes, putting their gear away, before Danny finally spoke. "He could've killed you."

Steve at least had the self-preservation to look like he considered that possibility before destroying it with, "To be honest, I wasn't really thinking about that."

Like that was a surprise? "Oh, no?" Danny said, lacing his tone with every bit of sarcasm he could muster. "Huh. That's funny."

He was almost grateful for more texts from the thug who was determined to ruin Grace's life, because at least it was a distraction from his brain's running montage of all the ways Steve could've died just a few minutes earlier.

"I gotta go deal with this," Danny said, holding up the phone before he put it in his pocket.

"You sure you wanna do that?" Steve asked.

Danny fixed him with a look. "She lied to me, Steven."

Steve nodded, even as the kicked puppy look crossed his face. "Yeah, I know. You need backup?"

Danny shook his head. "I can handle this one."

"Just remember," Steve said, as Danny pulled out his car keys, "you're not actually allowed to shoot him."

"Who do you think I am?" Danny shot back, looking over his shoulder as he turned to go. "You?"

***

Danny had sat through dinner with Grace fighting back the urge to confront her, while ignoring his annoyance with Steve for being Steve. He couldn't do anything about Steve being an idiot, but Grace he still had some control over. He should just confront her. But every time it was on the tip of his tongue, he remembered how much fun she'd been having. And just when that calmed him down, he'd remember she lied to him again.

_I know it worries you when I want to go do things with my friends._

Grace's words from a few weeks before came back to him. Maybe that was why she'd lied. He'd given her plenty of reasons to worry about telling him where she was really going. But if she kept doing it, he wouldn't know where to find her if she was really in danger. 

"You okay, Danno?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

She went back to her dinner, and he picked up his fork and started eating.

***

Once Grace went to bed, Danny had a harder time ignoring his annoyance with Steve. The idiot was going to get himself killed one of these days with all the stupid bravery, and Danny had lost enough lately. He wasn't ready to lose anything more. 

Steve had kept him sane--no, they'd kept each other sane these last few months. They'd both been spiraling, between Colombia and Steve's near miss with Wo Fat, and they'd managed to rein each other in somehow.

But Danny needed to stand on his own again, at least a little. At the very least he needed to learn how to sleep through the night alone. And continuing to stay at Steve's, or call him when he didn't, was not helping that.

He'd been annoyed with Steve for asking about Amber the night before, but if Danny was honest, he was really annoyed he'd been caught out. He'd been putting Amber off, making excuses, finding reasons to avoid her. 

His brief trip home had been illuminating. He'd seen his family, seen what it was like to be stuck, to not be able to move on from what had happened. And he'd realized he'd done the same thing in Hawaii, to an extent. Oh, he was, for all intents and purposes, doing much better, but a lot of that was down to Steve. 

He was like a drug--better than Xanax or whatever his mother had been taking when he'd been home, because her drug clearly wasn't working. But it was time to be a grown up and give up the security blanket and get back into the real world. 

It was also clearly time to go to bed if he was mixing his metaphors that badly.

He'd order Amber flowers first thing in the morning, and stop avoiding her. Steve had practically told him he should anyway, asking about her and Valentine's Day. He'd probably been hinting that Danny should get on with his life. So he would.

Tomorrow.

***


	16. Chapter 16

Steve focused on the screen in front of him, blinking as he tried to finish the case report. After 2 days with almost no sleep, chasing down a bank robber who'd murdered two tellers, he was tempted to go home and pass out. Only the look of disapproval he knew Danny would have had convinced him to stay and do the report.

His office door opened, and Danny walked in, stopping a few feet from Steve's desk. "I'm working on the report," Steve said.

Both Danny's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, did I walk into the wrong office?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Did you want something?" he asked. "Or did you just come in here to make the report take even longer?"

"Oh, right, yeah." Danny ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck. "I was thinking...mind if I take the weekend off? Tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday?"

Steve sat back, the report forgotten. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just...Amber. I haven't seen her a lot lately, and I thought it would be nice to get away for the weekend."

Well that answered that question. "Those must've been some serious flowers you sent her for Valentine's Day."

"Fuck you," Danny said, blushing a little. "I just...I've avoided her," he said, staring at Steve's desk. "I thought I'd make it up to her."

Fighting the urge to ask why Danny had been avoiding her, and what had changed, Steve nodded. "Go," he said quietly. "Have fun."

Danny smiled. "Thanks."

"So where are you taking her?"

"Oh no." Danny held up both hands. "I'm not telling anyone where we're going. No cell phones, no outside world, nothing. We are going completely off the grid."

The cold feeling that spread through Steve's chest was nothing, he told himself. He could get through the weekend without Danny for back up. So what if he had a few nightmares and had to deal with them?

He'd dealt with a lot worse for years before he ever met Danny.

"Okay," Steve said. "Don't tell me." He could always track Danny's car.

"And I'm disabling the tracker in my car, too."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so worried about being tracked down?"

"Because I don't care if a mad bomber comes with enough C4 to take out all the islands, I am taking the whole weekend off."

It didn't quite ring true, but Steve didn't want to pry any further. "Duly noted," he said. "And I promise not to come looking for you if that happens. Go enjoy yourself." 

***

The gunshot was still echoing in Steve's head when he woke, gasping, sitting up in bed and looking around for any sign of danger. It was all in his mind, though, and he flopped back onto the bed, trying to get his heart and lungs to stop racing. Both were about half way to normal when his phone buzzed, one short buzz, notification of a text message. He knew it couldn't be Danny. He was off the grid. Steve checked anyway. 

It was from Danny.

_Ocean sound actually soothing. Who knew?_

Steve choked out a laugh as he texted back. _Who are you and why do you have Danny's phone?_

He dropped the phone to his chest and waited for it to buzz, surprised when it was the longer, more insistent buzz of a call. He picked it up to see Danny's name on the screen before answering. "I thought you were off the grid."

"I am," Danny said, sounding tired. "I'm just taking a little break."

"I don't think you understand how this off the grid thing works."

"Hey, if you're busy, I can always just hang up."

"No," Steve said quickly. "No, I've got a few minutes."

Danny's laugh worked out the knot at the top of Steve's spine. "Glad to hear I wasn't interrupting anything."

Steve wondered why _he_ wasn't interrupting anything. Why Danny was calling him instead of curling up with Amber. "So, wherever you are, the ocean is close by?"

"Huh?"

"You said the ocean was soothing, so clearly you're close enough to hear it. Are you staying on the water?" 

"Ah-ah-ah," Danny said, and Steve could hear the smile through the phone. "Giving you even that much of a hint is practically giving away my location, Steven."

Steve rolled his eyes, shifting to move the phone to his other ear. "Seriously, Danny? There are a million places you can be in Hawaii on the water."

"Yeah, but one little hint is all you need," Danny teased. "I know you."

The phrase never failed to warm Steve to the core, not since Meka's funeral. "Hey, I promised not to look for you." Well, he'd promised not to look for Danny if a bomber threatened the island with C4, but he left that specific part out.

"Yeah, but."

"What? You don't trust me?"

The silence on the other end of the line allowed Steve to figure out that Danny was, in fact, very near the ocean. Steve could hear it clearly. Too clearly to be even through a window. "I trust you," Danny said finally, the words quiet, sincere. More sincere than the conversation really warranted. 

"But not enough to tell me where you are?"

"I can't tell you. I'm not even supposed to be on the phone, remember?" 

"Then why are you?" Steve asks, even though he suspects the answer already. Apparently their routine of mutual nightmares was still a thing. And apparently Amber wasn't enough to keep Danny's at bay. 

After a moment, Danny says, "Because I needed to make sure you hadn't destroyed the island in my absence." 

Nice try, but Steve knew that hollow tone in Danny's voice. He also knew that if Danny was outside, finding the ocean soothing, things were pretty bad. "You think very highly of yourself," Steve said. 

"Yeah, well...." Danny cleared his throat, and the ocean was loud over the phone line again for a few seconds. "I should probably go," Danny said, "since I'm not even supposed to be on the phone." 

Steve wanted to find a reason to stay on the line, but he couldn't think of anything that would be believable. "I won't tell if you won't," he said. 

"It'll be our little secret." 

One more on the pile of secrets, then. "Night, Danno."

"Good night."

Steve ended the call, dropping the phone onto his chest and staring up at the darkness.

***

Steve was in the truck, marveling at the idea of someone being sick enough to watch his victims burn, even as he realized the day he stopped finding things like that unusual he'd be in trouble, when the phone rang. 

"Kamekona. What's up?"

"Hey, McGarrett, thought you should know that some haole was just here looking for Amber."

Even with Danny and Amber on his mind, it took Steve a second to make the connection. "Danny's Amber? You sure about that?"

"He had a picture with them together, and they looked pretty cozy, brah. You think she's stepping out on Danny?"

Honestly, the way Danny had been avoiding her for months...? "I don't know," he said after a moment. "I'll look into it. Did you get a last name?"

"No, but I took a picture of the perp's ride as he drove away."

"The perp?" Steve said, a little amused in spite of himself. "Now he's the perp?"

"Hey, that's my professional opinion, partner. Picture's on its way. You need any more assistance, you know where to reach me."

Kamekona hung up, and Steve hit the button to call Chin, who answered on the first ring. "Did you find something?" Chin asked.

"Not yet, but we may have another problem."

He filled Chin in on Kamekona's call. "You think Danny's in danger?"

"I think an ex looking for Amber when she's alone with Danny might be a problem, yeah. Kamekona sent a picture with the guy's license plate. Can you look into it?"

"Yeah, I'll let you know what I find."

Steve hung up, speeding up the truck. The sooner they solved this case, the sooner he could make sure Danny was okay.

***

He was at the scene when Chin called back. The news that the guy was from New York, same as Amber, wasn't a huge surprise, given the circumstances. "Maybe he's an old boyfriend or something." 

"He's more than an old boyfriend," Chin said. "He's her husband. Turns out our Amber Vitale was actually born Melissa Armstrong. Her married name is Melissa Simpson."

Fuck. That added up, and Steve didn't like the total. "She travels 5,000 miles, she changes her name, and now the husband shows up?" There was a very logical conclusion. "She had to have been running from him."

"Yeah, and for good reason. NYPD arrested Simpson back in 2013 for felony assault. Amber--aka Melissa Simpson--was the complainant victim. He nearly killed her. She's got an order of protection against him."

Like that would help. "Yeah, all right, well, you and I both know that thing's not worth the paper it's printed on, all right? I bet Amber knew that, too."

"Yeah, I tried calling Amber and Danny as well. Both phones went straight to voicemail."

Trust Danny to make things difficult. "Danny told me that he was going off the grid. He wanted to spend some time with Amber. They must've turned their phones off." Surprising, considering Danny hated being out of reach for Grace, but Steve was sure he'd checked in with her. After all, he'd broken the off the grid rule to call Steve. 

"That explains why I can't ping their location. He say where he was taking her?"

"No. No he didn't." 

"I'll reach out to friends and work and see if anyone knows anything."

Steve focused on this like it was any other case, trying to put the potential victims out of his head. "Have HPD help. Put out an APB on Simpson. If he's going after Amber, she and Danny could be in danger."

"Yeah, I doubt Simpson is going to be too happy if he finds them together."

Which was what Steve was trying not to think about. "Let's try to keep that from happening, all right?"

"Yeah."

He remembered the call with Danny, that he'd been near the ocean. "Oh, wherever they are, it's on the water."

"That really narrows it down on an island."

"At least we know not to bother with the middle."

"Good point." 

Not much of one, Steve knew, but it was better than nothing. "Let me know what you find out?"

"You got it."

***

The case was a distraction, but not necessarily a welcome one. Worrying about Danny wouldn't do him any good, but he'd rather be out there searching for him. Since he had no way of knowing where to start, though, and since this was his job, and he cared about it, he put his worry aside and focused.

Even so, by the time they caught up with Duclair, Steve was more than ready for it to be over. When Millwood went missing, and they figured out why, Steve wasn't taking any chances of the guy getting away again. This was going to end now, and without any more deaths, whatever it took.

After all, jumping from one balcony to another was a piece of cake compared to everything else he was facing. 

They took Duclair down, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Grover lead the asshole out of the room. Millwood was safe, and the case was solved. 

Now he could focus.

His phone rang, the number unfamiliar. His relief was short-lived as the person on the other end said the words that had featured in more than a few of Steve's nightmares. "Detective Williams has been rushed into Tripler."

"What? When?" 

"He just arrived."

Fuck. "How bad is it?"

"He's in surgery."

Steve's stomach dropped. "I'm on my way."

***

He parked his truck as close to the entrance as he could without blocking the ambulance bay and rushed inside. Amber was just at the end of the hall, her face causing Steve's throat to close up for a second. She looked destroyed, as if Danny had--

He couldn't even finish the thought.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've told him," she said.

Yeah, she should've, but he could understand why she didn't. 

Before Steve could get any words out, the doctor appeared. "He's in recovery," the doctor said, and Steve managed to breathe again. "It may take a little time, but he's gonna be okay."

Steve had to be sure he'd understood correctly. "He's gonna be all right?" 

"He's gonna be all right." 

Steve vaguely heard Amber thanking the doctor over the rushing in his ears. Danny was okay. Or he would be--Steve would find out just how bad he was with his own eyes soon enough. 

He looked at Amber, her face mirroring every emotion Steve was struggling not to let have free rein. She'd taken care of Danny when it counted, somehow gotten him away from her husband and to the hospital. She'd been a victim, and yet she looked as though she'd personally stabbed Danny with the knife. 

He pulled her into his arms and held on tight. 

***

When they finally let them in to see Danny, he looked groggy, but not in any danger of dying, and most of the tension Steve had been holding onto while they'd waited finally dissipated. He let Amber rush up to the bed and take Danny's hand, knowing Danny would want to see she was okay as much as they wanted to see him.

Steve pulled a chair up for Amber to sit. She never took her eyes off Danny as she did. 

Danny was quick to look Steve's way after that, that smile that went all the way to his eyes settling the last little bit of tension. "Next time you go off the grid," Steve said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning into the foot of the bed, "maybe at least leave your phone on in case we really need you?"

"Couldn't solve your case without me?" Danny teased.

"No, we managed that, thanks," Steve said. "But we knew Simpson was here, and we tried to find you to let you know, but we couldn't."

He saw it hit Danny that he'd put himself and Amber in danger with his whole off the grid idea. Steve kicked himself as he saw Danny adding that to the running list in his head of things he'd done wrong. 

"Hey," Steve said. "It's okay. Apparently you had your own Terminator there to take care of it." Steve gave Amber a smile, one she returned. 

Danny cleared his throat. "I'm thirsty," he said. 

Amber jumped up. "I'll go get you some water." 

She was gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone with Danny. 

"Seriously," Steve said, his eyes still studying Danny as if maybe he'd missed some danger that still lurked. "No more off the grid entirely, okay?"

"Agreed," Danny said, a hint of seriousness in his tone that disappeared with his next words. "But hey, at least I'll have matching scars now. One on each side of my stomach."

Unbidden, the memory of tracing that original scar with his tongue, learning the jagged ridges from where the rebar had impaled Danny jumped into Steve's head. He fought back the vivid images in his mind, focusing on Danny, who was starting to frown just a bit. "That's a good thing," Steve said, pausing to clear his throat. "I know how much you care about symmetry." 

Danny laughed, then coughed, holding his side. "Ow."

"Sorry."

"No, don't be. I can use a good laugh right now." 

"Happy to be of service," Steve said. 

"I do think I'm gonna need a few more days off, though," Danny said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Danny Williams, slacking on the job," he said mockingly. "Who would've thought?"

"Hey, we can't all be Captain America like you," Danny shot back. "What's your average healing time? Five seconds?"

"Okay, fine," Steve said. "Take Monday off, too, then."

Danny held his side as he laughed softly. "Look at that," he said, "you can be a benevolent dictator after all."

Amber came back in, a plastic cup in her hand, bent straw sticking up from it. "They gave me a little water for you," she said, taking her seat back. "But they said you couldn't have any more until they'd been by to check on you."

"Thanks," Danny said, smiling at her.

Steve recognized that smile. He didn't begrudge Amber for getting it, not one bit. She'd more than earned it, and he could share, even if he could hear Mary laughing somewhere in the back of his head at the thought. 

"I need to get going," Steve said. "Have a few things to tie up on the case we've been working." He looked Danny up and down one last time, just to be sure he was really all right. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry," Amber said. "I'll take good care of him."

"I can see that," Steve said, smile still firmly in place. Because he could absolutely see it. It was plain as day. 

Which might be the problem. 

Steve turned his attention back to Danny. "I'll check in later, if I can assume you're back on the grid?"

"Back on the grid," Danny confirmed, nodding. "Never leaving the grid again."

"Good."

Steve turned out and walked away without looking back.

***


	17. Chapter 17

"I'm just saying, Danny," Steve said, as he slid behind the wheel of the Camaro, "if you'd been a little more strategic about the truth--"

"You mean if I'd lied to the nice therapist, Steven?"

"Not lying," Steve said. "Just maybe not volunteering quite so much."

"Omission _is_ lying, my friend." 

Steve stepped on the gas just to get Danny to switch to the much safer topic of bitching about Steve's driving. 

It didn't work.

"So, what," Danny asked, hands flying, "should I just lie and tell her you're the perfect partner, one who always listens and takes my thoughts into account before doing anything and never, ever does anything reckless?"

Steve pushed even harder on the gas, this time to get home as fast as humanly possible. "Maybe I'd listen to your thoughts if I could hear them among the sea of random complaints about everything from traffic to the fact that you can never get the sand out of your shoes--which, by the way, if you wore shoes appropriate to the island--"

"Don't start with me on the shoes," Danny said. "I have been doing my job in these shoes for over a decade, Steve. I will continue to do my job in them until the day I get buried in them. So deal with it. It's not my fault if this backwards island can't handle normal people's clothing, and prefers insisting on shoes that barely stay on your feet--"

"Normal?" Steve said, giving Danny a look. "Normal people, Danny, don't spend forty-five minutes bitching to a therapist about their partner's control issues. Speaking of which, if I really had control issues, do you really think I'd let you spend that much time controlling our session?"

"You would if it would get you out of having to talk yourself, yes."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Well, look at what it got us both. I let you talk and now look where we are--stuck having to go again. Only this time we have homework!"

"You know this is supposed to be helpful, right?" Danny said. "That is the purpose of therapy. And maybe if you weren't so hell bent on never discussing your feelings about anything more important than the color of your shirt or which gun goes with your shoes today, we wouldn't be stuck in therapy in the first place. Maybe we could communicate like normal--yes, I said normal, don't think I didn't see that eye roll at that, Steve--like _normal_ people and spend our time in a more productive manner."

"Again with the normal," Steve said, throwing up both hands before dropping them back on the wheel to take a corner. "Normal people keep a lot of their feelings to themselves, Danny," Steve said. "And anyway, it's not like you've always been all that forthcoming, despite your inability to stop talking."

He was walking a thin line and he knew it, but it wasn't as if he didn't have cause. Danny had kept quiet about his affair with Rachel until he'd been caught. It had taken three years for him to tell Steve why he hated water, and four to tell Steve he was claustrophobic. 

So much for Mr. Open About Everything.

Danny let out a little growl. "I can't even--"

Steve's phone rang, and he answered it gratefully to find Grover on the other end with a case. Even better, the case was only blocks away.

"We'll be right there." 

***

"No," Danny said. "That is a terrible idea."

Steve frowned at him. "It's the smart move, Danny. We get an apartment across the street and we watch Emma until Anders shows up."

"I don't like it."

Which made no sense. It was textbook police procedure--Steve had even said he'd get a warrant and everything. "Why?" Steve asked.

Danny didn't reply instantly, but the way he looked anywhere but at Steve was telling, as telling as the way Steve had been the one to initiate every late night text or call the last few weeks. Danny was avoiding. The only thing it didn't tell was why.

Steve glanced around to see everyone else seemed as confused as he was. By the time he looked at Danny, he was normal again, looking at Steve as though the last minute hadn't been at all weird. "You're right, sorry," Danny said, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, just...tired."

Not quite normal, Steve realized, but whatever it was would have to wait. Unless, of course, being cooped up in an apartment with Danny got Steve the answer to whatever was going on. Maybe that's why Danny didn't want to do this. Hopefully that was all it was. 

Not that it mattered. Cop killer trumps whatever issue Danny was having anyway. Danny could just deal.

***

When the door had closed in the landlord's face, Danny had still been trying to figure out how to deal with his situation. It wasn't until soon after that he'd realized he had a golden opportunity to get Steve to deal with their homework so they could get past the therapist and move on.

If that opportunity put a glitch in Danny's attempts to wean himself off Security Blanket Steve in the middle of the night, so be it. 

To Danny's surprise, normal Steve, with his neat house and his Navy rules, was so far removed from Stake Out Steve that Danny distracted from his other issues just trying to reconcile the two. For one thing, Steve was eating constantly, replying with some bullshit about substituting food for sleep when Danny asked at what point Steve had become a human trash compactor. 

Like it wasn't bad enough that Steve liked cats? Seriously, 'adorable ninjas'? Only Steve.

Clearly Steve wasn't just substituting food for sleep, he was also substituting it and anything else he could find for the homework they needed to finish to get out of therapy hell. Not that Steve didn't need years of therapy, in Danny's opinion, but Danny didn't understand why Steve had to drag Danny down that hole with him.

Or why he had to smell the whole apartment up cooking eggs in the microwave. Because his   
eating style in general wasn't disgusting enough--especially when he was introducing Danny to an amazing new food while simultaneously ruining it just a little because it was just one more sign of his insane control freak behavior.

And now the whole apartment smelled like disgusting eggs. 

Danny had been trying to work through the book, but writing down all the things that frustrated him about Steve seemed to be magnifying them, especially in such a close space. He couldn’t figure out an answer for what Steve was passionate about--the obvious bed-related activities not something he could really list--so maybe teasing him about it might help. 

"I'm passionate about playing music."

Since when? Danny had never seen Steve so much as play a note on anything. Ever. The guy didn't even own a musical instrument as far as Danny had seen. "Oh, you play music? That's funny, because I've known you for a very long time, and I've never seen you even close to an instrument, let alone playing one."

"Well, I used to play guitar. Actually, I was really into it. I was quite good, too."

"But you stopped," Danny said. "Why'd you stop?"

Steve suddenly couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know," he said, intent on his food, "I just stopped, you know."

No, Danny didn't know, and now he wanted to. Very much. Unfortunately, the knock on the door gave Steve the perfect out, and left Danny wondering what he might've been able to worm out of Steve. 

That he had to force it out of the guy was annoying, frustrating, and yet totally predictable. He never owned up to anything unless forced or caught in some rare, unawares moment--usually when it was clear they were about to die. Otherwise, he deflected, he joked, or he out and out lied. 

"We're not gay, we're 5-0," Steve had told Ruth the day before. Danny had laughed, but something about it still bothered him. Maybe because he'd been down and dirty too many different ways with Steve to buy it. Then again, Steve had very narrow definitions for things--neither one of them were actually gay, by strict definition. 

Still, it bugged him. Not for the obvious reasons, either. Steve hadn't sounded disgusted, or like there was anything wrong with it. It was more like hiding any part of him he thought might be a weakness was so instinctive that he believed it himself. Maybe he did. Maybe he was so good at denial that he'd forgotten what Danny's dick felt like in his mouth.

And maybe Danny needed to just forget that himself. 

***

Steve was staring at the screen, even though there was nothing to see but the occasional shadow and light through the curtains in Emma's bedroom. He'd turned the sound down after they'd started going at it, only turning it back up when the shadows broke pattern. 

It was going to be a very long night, especially since Danny had retreated into that damn work book Steve was beginning to hate. He'd made a few pointed comments under his breath that Steve had ignored rather than engaging in a discussion he knew would end in some exercise in the book. Danny had apparently given up on the comments.

A soft thud caused Steve to look Danny's way for the first time in a while, seeing the book on the floor and Danny sound asleep. So much for Danny's insomnia--or maybe that book was better than Ambien. 

Steve picked the book up carefully, anxious not to wake Danny, who clearly needed the sleep. As Steve went to put the book on the table, though, it opened to a page Danny had bookmarked, and Steve couldn't help but read.

The first question on the page was _My favorite memories with my partner have been_. Danny had written, "Rock drawings, fishing, Easter egg hunt." Steve smiled at the memories, even as he tried to ignore the thought that two of those had involved near death experiences. 

That the third had involved Grace, had been the closest thing he'd had to a normal family experience in decades, made his heart do some weird fluttery thing, though. 

He read the next question, _My partner shows me appreciation by_. "Never letting me drive my own car," was the first, predictable, answer, followed by, "Always checking to make sure I'm breathing after a fight." 

He'd wondered if Danny had ever picked up on that, Steve's need to make sure he was sending Danny home to Grace safe every night. Steve never wanted Grace to have to live what he'd been through, losing a parent so young. If he thought he could get Danny to find a safer job, he might actually try it, but barring that, the best Steve could do was have Danny's back. Always.

Danny hadn't answered the third line, so Steve went on to the last question on the page, _I value my partner because_. Danny had listed three one word responses, "Loyalty, bravery, stupidity."

Steve laughed at that, hearing it in Danny's voice in his head. He flipped through a few more pages, amazed at how easily Danny could write the answers out. For Steve, answering some of these questions for everyone to see...he might as well be writing the answers in blood. It would be easier, at least then there might be a chance he'd bleed out and not have to be embarrassed by anyone reading them. 

He looked at Danny, snoring gently on the other end of the couch. Steve had put the reduction in late night conversations down to Danny's nightmares getting better, but he'd seen the date on that commercial they'd watched, and it was new. So Danny was apparently still having trouble sleeping. He just wasn't calling Steve about it anymore. And he'd been antsy about the stake out. 

Steve didn't know what to do with that. 

He flipped through a few more pages in the book, but it offered no more answers, only questions. A lot of questions, all in black and white, and each one harder to answer than the last, it seemed. 

He glanced at Danny again. Maybe it was worth trying to answer a few of those questions. 

Or maybe Steve was just in need of sleep. 

Steve tossed the book aside and sunk back into the couch, watching the screen again. There was something almost soothing about the shadows--nothing defined or obvious, everything secreted in darkness.

When he saw the shadows get off the bed, he turned the sound up again, just enough that he could hear without disturbing Danny. Turned out to be a water break, though, and when they went back to the bed, he turned the sound down once more.

He had to hand it to them--that kind of stamina was impressive. 

Steve was doing his best not to doze when he felt the couch shift a little as Danny moved. 

"I fell asleep," Danny said, voice sleep rough and familiar, sending a warm feeling through Steve. "I miss anything?" 

Steve leaned over to turn the sound up, the noises answer enough, as Danny answered his own question. "Apparently not."

"They stopped for a water break about half an hour ago," Steve said. 

"That's good, you gotta stay hydrated."

"Very important." 

"See, this is bad for us," Danny said, "men in general, this is what gives us a bad name. Twenty-thirty minutes, that includes a drink. This three hours makes us look terrible. We can't do this." 

The banter was comfortable, normal, and Steve started to relax. Which, of course, was when Danny noticed the book. 

"You, uh...you reading the workbook?"

The reply was instinctive. "No."

"No? It was over here, now it's over there. You had to do something with it."

Steve looked for a logical reason, and went for the half truth. "You were reading it, you fell asleep. You dropped it on the floor, I moved it over here." 

"You didn't look at it?"

"Did I look at it?" Steve felt the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. "Maybe a little--yeah, I looked at it a little bit. I skimmed through it a little bit. I was bored." 

"What did you think?"

Steve shrugged, hoping that and an evasive noise would be enough of an answer.

"That's it?" Danny stared at him. "You're unbelievable. I mean, I have seen you personally put yourself in every conceivable life-threatening situation without batting an eye, like it's nothing. But when it comes to talking about your feelings, forget about it. You'd rather choose cyanide." 

Steve looked away. "Huh?" Danny prodded, but Steve couldn't look back at him. He didn't know what to say. 

"Forget it," Danny said finally, sounding tired. "Wake me up if they stop, or do something interesting, or open up that curtain." 

It was like being fifteen again, standing on that stage, everyone staring, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he couldn't even hear what he was sure was laughter and mockery. He reined it in, forcing it all down into its tight container where it couldn't get to him.

But then, wasn't that exactly what Danny was complaining about? Wasn't that why he'd just turned away?

"You wanna know why I don't play guitar anymore?" Steve asked finally, the words sounding loud against that rushing in his ears. 

"Yes, I would like to know why you don't play guitar anymore."

Such a simple question, such a difficult answer. But Danny was uncovering, turning back towards Steve again. He had to continue. "Tenth grade talent show," Steve said slowly, "I signed up to perform." 

He could see that crowd again, felt that same rush of panic, but he pushed on. "I practiced the song every day for months and months, and the day finally came around. I was standing in the wings, my guitar was in tune, and they called my name. I walked out on stage...and I turn around and look at all those people." 

He was sure Danny must be able to hear his pulse right now, pounding so loud it had to be waking up the neighbors. "And I couldn't do it," Steve said. "I couldn't do it, so I walked off, and never played guitar again." He waited, still and quiet, willing his heart to slow down. 

"That's it?" Danny said, finally. 

"That's it." Like it was nothing. 

"Tenth grade," Danny said, "you had stage fright, so you never played guitar ever again?"

Stage fright was a hangnail compared to what he'd had that day. "I didn't have stage fright. It was bigger than that," Steve said, glancing at Danny. "I'm telling you, man, it was a, uh..." An impossible thing to describe, but he tried, because Danny was still listening, "I don't know, I guess it was an existential crisis. I just, in that moment, I couldn't handle the vulnerability that I was experiencing, I couldn't handle how exposed I felt." 

He recognized some of the words had come from that stupid workbook, but they fit, giving name to the monsters he'd discovered that day on stage, and making them feel slightly less scary in the process. 

Slightly. 

"It felt like I couldn't breathe," Steve said, the words coming faster now, "and I thought it was gonna kill me. "

He chanced another look at Danny, who didn't look convinced. "Look, man," Steve said, suddenly needing him to understand, "I was raised differently to you, okay? I wasn't raised in a house with a supportive family encouraging me to share my feelings--and in your case, _every_ feeling...."

Danny acknowledged the slight barb, a small hint of normalcy in this sea of the unfamiliar, at least for Steve. "The McGarrett men are a different breed," Steve continued. "To them, showing emotion is like showing a weakness, you know. I mean, it's stupid, but it's just the way it is."

"I understand that," Danny said, "I just figured after everything we've been through, you know--your father, my brother, everything--I figured maybe I was, you know, somebody you could open up to is all."

Steve realized that he'd referred to that different breed as 'them,' instinctively, as though it didn't apply to him, in the same breath where he realized that deafening rush in his ears was down to a small roar, maybe even just a tiny waterfall. "I just did," he said, feeling like he could breathe again, as his heart resumed something closer to a normal beat. 

At least until he realized the window was open. And Mr. Pickles had been suspiciously absent for a while. 

"Where's the cat?"

***

All the way to the Easy Music Center, Danny considered turning around. Steve had given up the guitar over two decades ago for a reason, and that was over half a lifetime of fear to overcome. Just the amount of trouble Danny had had getting the story out of Steve showed how deeply ingrained the fear was. 

Danny pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. They'd all teased Steve at one point or another about lacking a fear gene. Clearly that wasn't the case. Instead his fear gene was a little demented--which, for Steve, made perfect sense. Other people feared death; Steve feared anyone figuring out he was a scared teenager underneath all that muscle and testosterone. 

Then again, who was Danny, with his fear of water and close spaces, to judge? 

Steve had helped Danny with those monsters, though. Not that Danny thought he'd be reasonable in a closet with rising water levels or something, but his nightmares about both had subsided. That they'd been replaced with much worse nightmares was beside the point--and anyway, Steve had helped him with those, too.

He'd helped Danny exorcise demons pretty much since the beginning, starting with that weekend at the Kahala with Grace. Being able to give Grace that kind of experience made Danny feel on par with what Stan could provide for her. Silly, he knew--Grace loved him no matter what he could or couldn't give her. But still. It had helped.

Danny got out of the car and went inside, finding a helpful employee waiting right by the door. The guy looked like he'd just stepped out of an old Led Zeppelin video, but he seemed lucid enough as he asked, "How can I help you today, sir?" 

"I'm looking for a guitar."

"You've come to the right place!" 

Phil, as the guy insisted Danny call him--was a little over-enthusiastic for Danny's tastes, but he seemed to know what he was talking about as he asked questions about the use of the guitar. "So it's for a gift?" he asked. At Danny's nod, Phil started asking questions about Steve's height--freakishly tall--and his arm length--freakishly long. 

"Right handed?" Phil asked.

"Yeah."

"Is he a serious player?" Phil asked. "Or is this just a hobby where it won't get used much?"

"He's very passionate about making music," Danny said. Or he had been, but Danny left that part out. Somewhere between leaving his house and now he'd made up his mind that he was giving Steve that passion back again, and he had a feeling that meant something more than a $200 starter guitar that could easily be left in the corner. 

He knew Steve. The more Danny had spent on the guitar, the more likely Steve was to play it.

"Ah," Phil said, "so he'll want something with great sound. I have the perfect suggestion." 

Phil took him to a beautiful guitar, on display with soft lighting, and rightly so. Even just to look at, the guitar clearly was a step above many of the ones they'd walked by. 

"Mahogany and cherry wood," Phil said, as he picked the guitar up reverently. "FSC Certified wood, too, so if your friend is into conservation, that's a plus."

Well, there might be a plus in that he could use it to mock Steve about the Christmas tree incident, but Danny didn't think that's what Phil was going for. "It's nice," Danny said, taking it out of Phil's hands and examining it as if he had any clue what he was looking for.

"It's the Jeff Tweedy model," Phil said. Danny's blank look must've been obvious, because Phil said, "He's from the band Wilco. Grammy award winner. Trust me, it's a big selling point."

Danny frowned, thinking back. He was sure Steve had told a story about something that happened at a Wilco concert when he was at Annapolis. That had to mean he probably at least knew who the guy was, right?

Danny checked out the tag, saw the price, and winced. "Thirty-two hundred dollars?"

"For a quality instrument," Phil said, nodding, "that's pretty standard."

Danny considered the guitar in his hands, not sure what such an expensive gift would say. He didn't want to give Steve the impression that...well, that what? That he valued Steve? That he valued their relationship? 

Hadn't he been going through all this couple's therapy bullshit for that very reason? Surely if he could suffer couple's therapy after his disastrous experiences with therapy and Rachel, he could pony up for a nice guitar. 

He looked at it once more, his mind replaying Steve's confession, about the way that he still thought of it as his first passion after so many years, and the look on his face as he'd admitted to opening up to Danny.

Danny handed the guitar back to Phil. "I'll take it."

***

Steve was already on his way to the car when Danny got out. "You got your homework ready?" Danny asked

"Dog ate it," Steve said, but he pulled the workbook out from behind his back and showed it to Danny before Danny could even be annoyed.

Good behavior deserved a reward. "Look, I've got something for you," Danny said, heading towards the trunk. He opened up the trunk and stepped back. "There you go."

"What is this?" Steve asked.

Danny would laugh, except he knew Steve too well, and he had a feeling Steve was expecting to be disappointed. "What is it?" Danny asked, keeping his tone light. "It's a tuba, you schmuck. What does it look like?"

Steve's grin was better than the sun, even as he played along with the joke, but it was nothing compared to the reaction Steve had with his whole body as he saw the guitar inside. That alone was worth ten times what the guitar cost. 

"Danny, that's uh..."

"Nice, right?"

"Nice? This is beautiful, are you kidding me?"

"Figured you start playing again, maybe play that song you never got to play," Danny said before he could stop the rambling that continued on in his brains for several more seconds. 

"This is really, uh...this is...I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Hey, McGarrett speechless, also worth the money. Danny wasn't even sure what he said next, he was just intent on getting on the road before he said something really stupid.

He wasn't even sure what stupid thing he was worried about saying, but he knew he needed to stop before he found out. 

His entire brain was derailed, though, when Steve threw him the keys. "I drive?" Danny said. "Wow, definitely a breakthrough here, Steven." More than a breakthrough; more like an impossibility until this second. 

"Don't get too excited. I'm still controlling the radio."

Thank God, or Danny might've thought he had accidentally landed in another universe. Still, he had no issues at all with the song Steve put on, and as they drove away, Steve in the passenger seat, in one piece and shooting glances at Danny like he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve any of this, Danny thought that maybe, just maybe, that guitar had been a bargain.

***


	18. Chapter 18

From the moment Steve got Joe's call, he had tunnel vision. He'd done everything he had to do, get Nahale home, make sure Grace was safe, but all of it with one overriding factor driving him.

Danny was in trouble. 

As soon as he'd heard the charge, Steve had known who. What he hadn't figured out was why or how. It had been months since Colombia, months with no one seemingly the wiser about what had happened. And Steve had thought it had been taken care of. His contacts had sworn were going to go in and clean up. 

Apparently just not fast enough. Or maybe they lied to him, who knows? After all, who in his life hadn't? 

Except Danny. 

Steve got out of the truck and went into the detention center, doing his best to talk his way in, but no luck. He thought about barging through, but Danny needed him on the outside, not in cuffs. Calling the Governor was out, too--the second the Governor heard Marshalls had arrested a member of 5-0 for murder, the whole team would be in jeopardy, and Steve needed his badge and his resources to fix this. 

Of course, he also needed his team, but Chin, who was supposed to be there with him, had gone quiet, phone straight to voicemail. Steve was still trying to figure his next move when Joe pulled up, leaving Steve just enough time to get in before Joe floored the jeep and took off.

The CIA. The fucking CIA. Of course. He should've seen it coming--could kick himself for not seeing it, actually. He should've been looking for it this whole time, ready to stop it the second it started. Apparently it wasn't enough that they tried to kill his whole team--now they wanted to take them out "legally." 

And if it made him understand his mother a little more, it sure as hell didn't make him like her any more. 

***

Danny had pegged the guy as a spook the second he walked in, but Alexander's "State Department" claim confirmed it. Danny didn't see any reason not to let the guy know he had figured that much out, either. He'd learned over the years that it was better to let these idiots know they weren't dealing with a complete moron.

He didn't like that he'd learned it, but he'd learned it nonetheless.

Of course, he'd also learned from being on the other side of the table that keeping your mouth shut had its benefits. 

So he let Alexander talk, let him lay out the case, and watched to figure out what his game was, and how much of his evidence was just bullshit trying to make Danny hang himself. 

"You're guilty. And we both know that."

So far his case was right on. 

***

Joe circled around and took Steve back to his truck, promising to meet him at HQ after he 'checked with a contact.'

Steve was still trying to get hold of Chin when Joe showed up, holding a thumb drive. That the CIA had Reyes under surveillance left Steve wanting to hit something. If they'd had Reyes under surveillance, they must have known that he had Matt. And they'd done nothing. 

And they must've known Steve was there. Had no way of knowing whether he or Danny had pulled the trigger.

"They knew I was there too," Steve said to Joe, "with Danny, in Colombia. Why wasn't I picked up, too?"

"Steve, you're a highly decorated Navy SEAL. A hero." Joe pulled the thumb drive out of the computer. "I'm guessing you get a free pass."

And Danny had saved the world and thrown himself into countless deadly situations right alongside Steve. Had, in fact, only killed Reyes to protect his own family.

Why was Danny not exempt? 

He didn't have time to ask, though, as Kono came in with more news: IA had arrested Chin. 

Divide and conquer--the CIA really did love their playbook.

***

Danny looked at the pictures, noticing that Steve was not in any of them somehow. There was no point in hiding that they'd had the money, not with the evidence right in front of him, so there was nothing to be lost by telling Alexander where they money was. 

"You and your accomplice, you could have just retired on that."

So they knew Steve was involved, but they were carefully omitting who he was. Interesting. What was their play?

Danny turned the tables, pushing to find out why the government claimed to care about Reyes.

"I care about the law," Alexander said. "And you broke it."

Lie. Absolute lie. 

Knowing the asshole was a liar didn't make it any easier to sit there and calmly discuss Matt's murder, or Reyes, for that matter, but it was the only way to get anywhere. 

"You took the law into your own hands, Detective. And you of all people should've known better."

He did. Didn't mean he could change what had happened. "Well, I guess I'm gonna have to live with that," Danny said, wanting to get to the point. "But what I don't understand is why you are here. Why you are working this case." Because that was the real question, that was the only shot he had at freedom, even if he might not deserve it. 

"Like I said, you broke the law. It's really that simple."

"No," Danny said, even more certain. Time to show this asshole who he was dealing with. "No, I'm a cop. I've been reading liars half my life. It can't be that simple." 

"Reyes was on your payroll, or the Colombians, or both, whatever," Danny said. "And whatever he was into is still in play because now somebody wants payback. Not payback for his murder, I'm sure his mother didn't even care about that. But, no, you need someone to take the fall because Reyes expired before you got what you wanted out of him. Am I close? Ballpark?"

"I'm gonna get you a book for the plane."

Oh yeah, he wasn't just in the ballpark, that was a home run. And if they didn't get Danny, they'd go after someone else to take the fall. Like Steve. Who was a noble idiot and would confess to anything, even a murder he didn't commit, in a heartbeat to protect Danny. 

"I sign that," Danny said, nodding at the paper, "what does my daughter find out? What does she hear?"

"What she reads in the papers. And if she comes to visit you, that's on the Colombians." Alexander leaned forward. "There is really no reason to make this any more complicated."

Translation: There's no reason to get Steve mixed up in this. "I'm sorry," Danny said, as if he didn't understand, because he needed to be sure, "what does that mean? Is that a threat? You threatening me? You threatening my family? I don't understand."

"Don't be so shortsighted, Detective. Sign the waiver, and then we're done."

Oh yeah, Danny was right. This went to an American court, and Steve was as screwed as Danny was.

***

Steve didn't bother with the sirens on the way to the courthouse, even as he broke several traffic laws. It wasn't as if HPD didn't know his truck, and he was sure news of what was going on had spread like wildfire. 

No one would dare stop him.

At least not until he got to court. Not until he was almost close enough to touch Danny. 

"Commander McGarrett, I'm going to have to ask you to step back from the prisoner."

"Who are you?" Steve asked. 

"Steve," Danny said, "it's okay."

"No, no, it's not okay." Danny was in handcuffs and this asshole was telling Steve to back off, and Danny was telling him it was okay? Not even close. And Steve did actually know the laws, despite what Danny liked to say. "This man has been denied counsel. That is a violation of his civil rights, you understand that?" 

"This man refused counsel, Commander."

The hell he did. But one look at Danny and Steve knew it was true. "Why would you do that, Danny?"

He saw the way Danny looked at the asshole, and he understood. "What did you threaten him with?" Steve asked Asshole.

"He didn't threaten me," Danny said, but Steve knew it was a lie. "Steve, listen to me. I signed the paper. Everything's okay, just please, talk to Grace, tell her I'm okay, and that I'm gonna call her as soon as I can. Can you do that, please?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said. They'd started this together and they'd finish it together, dammit. "You," he said, pointing at Asshole, "you listen to me. I was there. When Marco Reyes was murdered, I was in the room. You understand? You hearing me? If the Colombians want Danny, they want me, too. " 

"Yeah, well, then, you're lucky that your friend here is keeping you off their radar." 

"No, no, no, no." Steve turned to Danny, his calmness making this even worse. "I'm not going to let you do that. You're not gonna sign an extradition to protect me. What are you doing?"

"You don't have a choice," Asshole said, turning Danny around and starting to lead him away. "The deal's been made."

"Call Grace," Danny said, as he turned. He called out once more over his shoulder, "Call Grace, promise me you'll talk to Grace." 

Then he was gone. 

***

Kono met Steve at the door. "How's Danny?"

He's an idiot. "He was on his way into court," Steve said. "He waived extradition."

"What? Why would he do that?" 

"I--" He couldn't get the words out, couldn't say out loud that Danny had basically signed his own death warrant to protect Steve. Not to Kono, not when they had other things to worry about, too. "I don’t know. What's the word on Chin?"

She filled him in, her frustration and worry clear in her voice. "Chin knew the risks when he was asking for that money, and he didn't care, because Danny was in trouble and your cousin was there," Steve said. "Now we're gonna be there for him. And if Chin's gonna go down, he's not gonna go down without a fight."

"I like the sound of that," Kono said.

"Good. Come here."

He pulled her into a hug, feeling a little like they were lost at sea, holding onto each other for dear life as the things that mattered most to them slipped away. 

"He'll be all right," Steve said. And so would Danny. They had to be all right, or he didn't know what would happen to him and to Kono. 

"Thanks," she said, even if she didn't sound entirely convinced.

Joe was waiting in the bullpen. "Steve," Joe said, and Steve could already tell from his tone he wasn't going to like what came next. "I just heard from my contact. It turns out there was more to Danny's arrest than just bringing him to justice for the Reyes murder."

Which made sense, but didn't. "What else could it have been about?"

"It was an apology, of sorts. Reyes was in the middle of a big deal when he was killed on the CIA's watch, and somebody has to answer for that."

That made more sense, even as it pissed Steve off. "How big a deal we talking about?"

"One point three billion dollars of cocaine never made it to market. Reyes was the only one who knew where that shipment was. The CIA's been looking for it ever since he was killed."

"So this whole thing, none of it, none of it was about finding justice for Reyes' murder?" Steve said, equal amounts of anger and horror growing as he realized it. "It's about the missing dope?"

***

"We have no idea where that cocaine is," Joe said, as Alexander drove off. 

"No," Steve said. "We don't." He looked around, then back at Joe. "Lucky he's not as good at spotting a lie as you are."

Joe's eyebrows went up. "You think he didn't know you were bluffing?"

Steve shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It bought us 48 hours." He started back around the truck to the door. "Come on, let's go find that cocaine."

***

Danny sat on the plane, staring straight ahead, ignoring the Marshalls. He was even able to ignore the cuffs, had actually gotten used to them by now. 

He closed his eyes, but the demons that haunted his dreams had snuck into his conscious brain now. He saw what was left of Matt in a barrel, saw the look on Reyes' face right before Danny ended him, and after, neat little bullet in his head, smoke still rising from the gunshot. 

Danny opened his eyes to get rid of the image, but there was nothing comforting around him, so he closed them again, calling up better memories. The plane ride back from Colombia last time, for all its ugly memories, had good ones, too. 

Steve, taking care of him. Trying to fix everything Danny had broken, letting Danny take whatever he needed to get through it. Danny might have tried to block out a lot of things that had happened on that trip, but the one thing he'd never tried to erase was the feel of Steve losing control under Danny's hands and mouth, or the feel of Steve giving control over without hesitation. Because Danny needed him to. Because he was always there to protect Danny.

Now it was Danny's turn to protect him.

Besides, it wasn't as if they were trumped up charges. He'd done the crime. He could deal with doing the time. 

***

Steve rubbed his eyes as he studied the documents in front of him. Maybe if he rubbed his eyes hard enough the documents would say something different when he looked again. They didn't, of course, but it didn't stop him from trying. 

A mug appeared in front of his face. "Here," Grover said.

Steve took the coffee, nodding his thanks as he took a sip. It was a little sweet, with milk--more the way Danny liked his coffee --but it was good. He needed the caffeine. 

"We'll get him back," Grover said quietly.

Steve stared into his mug. "I know," he said, sparing a glance at Grover. "Thanks."

"It's just coffee."

Steve huffed a half-laugh. "I mean...." Steve waved his hand around at all the evidence they were banging their heads over. "Thanks."

"This is what we do, right?" Grover said, taking a seat. "We catch the bad guys and help the good ones." 

"Yeah." Steve knew that, but he also knew that Grover's idea of good and bad had been a little more narrow when he'd first arrived. He'd had issues with their methods, and he hadn't even been there for the worst of it, when half the team had been under arrest. 

Maybe this was his last initiation hurdle. 

"Look," Grover said, leaning in, "when my daughter was kidnapped, and I didn't have an official leg to stand on, you guys took over. You're the reason she's home. The reason she's not dead and Ian Wright is."

Considering the guy who'd actually saved her only did it to get to Steve, he wasn't sure that was the best example, but he took it. "We do what we gotta do for family," Steve said.

"Which was my point," Grover replied. "And we always manage it. So we'll get him back."

Always couldn't last forever, Steve knew, but he nodded, and Grover stood, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he walked away. Steve took another drink of his coffee and went back to the documents. 

***

He was still staring when Kono came in with news about Chin. There was no way to get to Gabriel, and nothing they could do about it for the time being. Chin had time on his side for the moment, though, safe in a holding cell waiting for due process.

Danny did not.

"All right," Steve said, "no one person is more important than the other. But Chin is here, and Danny is a cop in a South American prison. If we don't move fast, he's not gonna last a week."

He looked at every one of them in turn, seeing the same determination on their faces, and felt himself breathe again. Because everyone might be important, but it was always Danny he called for first, every time there was a fire fight, and he didn't think his team was so stupid as to not have noticed.

It wasn't that Danny was more important. It was just that he was the first thought Steve had when anything went wrong. He wanted to send Danny home to Grace at night. 

And if there was anything else he wanted to do with Danny at night, that was beside the point. 

Joe's phone beeped, and he left the room to check in with his contact. Hopefully that would be the information they needed to find the cocaine. And if it was, Steve had a promise he had to fulfill before they left.

"There's something I need to take care of, too, all right?" he said, heading for the exit without looking back.

***

By the time Steve reached Rachel's, he still had no idea what he was going to tell Grace, other than promising to bring Danny home. He saw her jump up and run as he pulled in, heard her, "Danno!" and his stomach flopped at the thought of what he had to do.

"Danno's not with you?" 

Steve shook his head, putting an arm around her and leading her to a bench nearby. "No, Gracie, I'm sorry." He sat down beside her. "We're working on getting him out."

"They said he was arrested for murder." 

He'd punch those Marshalls for doing this in front of her, in front of her whole class, if he didn't think it would make everything that much worse. "It's a complicated situation."

"Is it true?" she asked. "Did he kill someone?"

How did he answer that? He couldn't say no, but he couldn't say yes, either. And the last thing she needed with her father missing was to find out he'd killed someone to protect her. 

She was her father's daughter, though. She didn't need him to say anything to read him. "Who was he?" she asked. "Was he bad?"

Definitely Danny's daughter, and the thought made Steve's throat close up just a little. "Grace, listen to me, all right?" he said after a moment, going with the one universal truth he knew. "You have to believe in your father. Your dad, he's the best man I know, and everything he does, he does to protect the people he loves." Like Grace. And Steve, which was why he's in this situation. "So no matter what happens, you gotta know that."

She nodded. "Okay," she said after a second, but she looked more frightened than before. He was the wrong person to be doing this. He needed Danny there. Danny would know what to do.

"Come here," he said, pulling her into a hug, what he realized Danny would do. "I promise you, kid. I promise I'm gonna bring Danno home, all right?"

"Okay." 

"I love you," he said, and gave her a kiss on the head, before holding onto her, because he didn't know what else to do.

***

The intel Joe had from his contact was tempting. Almost too tempting, especially for someone who'd been lured in and almost killed by the CIA on intel before. "How reliable is your contact?" Steve asked. 

"A hundred and ten percent," Joe said. 

He was confident, Steve would give him that. But could they put their lives on the line for unknown intel from a guy who'd spent his whole life lying to Steve? 

Then again, Joe had lied to protect him--so he said. He wasn't likely to lie to put Steve in more danger. And certainly not the whole team.

"Okay," Steve said finally, "we've got one shot at this. If the intel's good, we got a chance of bringing Danny home. If it's not, we could all end up in a South American prison." 

Everyone was on board, so Steve nodded. "Good, then let's go." 

***

Danny hunkered down in a corner and tried to become invisible. He knew better than to think he could sleep--and even if he could, he knew better than to think he should. Fortunately, he'd made a habit of living with sleep deprivation. 

Unfortunately, he hadn't brought a gang of his own to prison with him, and it didn't take long for word to get around about the new guy, 'policía' being passed around the room in a buzz, like an annoying insect that needed to be killed.

It also didn't take long for the first attack.

Danny knew just enough Spanish to know everything they were saying was an insult--not that he really needed Spanish for that, since tone was kind of universal. When he didn't respond, they started kicking. He tried to curl in on himself for protection, but they picked him up, getting a few good punches in before dragging him out. 

No use beating up on the cop if you couldn't make a show of it, after all. 

***

Steve was going through the gear on the plane, triple checking everything just to have something to do, when Kono sat down beside him. "You know everything that's in there by heart," she said. "You really need to check it again?"

He glanced up at her. "'Always be prepared' is my motto."

"Really? I thought it was 'The only easy day was yesterday.'"

"I was a Boy Scout before I was a SEAL."

She nodded. "Fair enough." 

He saw the strain in her face, and laid a hand on her arm. "Chin's gonna be okay."

"I know. He's safe, which is more than we can say for--well...."

"Yeah, I know."

Steve looked down at the gear again, but Kono ducked her head down until he had to look at her once more. "Danny's gonna be okay, too."

"I know."

He was lying every bit as much as she had been about Chin, but somehow 'I hope' didn't have the right ring to it when you were risking everything for someone. 

***

Danny drifted in a haze, wondering if anyone had ever told these guys that pain has a threshold, and once you reached it, trying to inflict more was pointless. They'd do better to let up for a bit and start again, but hey, if they wanted to expend all their energy at once, he wasn't going to teach them.

Steve would've known this kind of shit. But Steve wasn't here. Steve was back in Hawaii, watching over Grace, if he knew what was good for him. He'd been nothing but supportive of Danny after Danny had murdered Reyes right in front of him. Steve himself had done nothing but try to clean up Danny's mess. Well, Matt's mess, but one Matt couldn't have made if Danny had been a little tougher on him. 

Steve was safe, 6,000 miles away, and Danny clung to that right up until his attackers were being pulled off him, and for one second, he thought Steve had done something noble and stupid again and broken into a prison to save him. 

After all, it's not like it would be the first time.

But no, it was the guards, and Danny let out a sigh of relief. He'd protected Steve enough--he didn't need to be protecting him in a Colombian prison. He did, however, need the guards to protect him if he wanted to live, apparently. And for that he needed money. 

Money he didn't have. But then again, he'd brought this on himself. So he should just take his punishment. Would, in fact, if it weren't for Grace. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. 

Unless.... 

"I can get you money," Danny said. "I just need to make a phone call, all right?"

They led him into a dingy office with a desk, chairs and a phone. He knew he didn't have long, so he dialed quickly, keeping his voice low as he said, "Hey, Monkey, how are you? You all right? I love you very much."

"Danno, where are you? Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, I'm always okay, huh? How are you? I love you."

He had to stop saying that, he'd scare her, but he couldn't help it, he needed to get it in as many times as possible. He knew he'd screwed up and said it one too many times, though, when she said, "I love you, too, Daddy." She almost never called him that. "When are you coming home?"

"I'm gonna come home very soon, Monkey, right away, I love you--"

The guard pulled the phone line out of the wall, and then Danny was on the floor again, but it didn't matter. He didn't care. 

He'd gotten to tell Grace he loved her, and that was all he could do.

***

"Contact!" Steve yelled, as the team each took an opening in the chopper. "Spot your targets! Conserve your ammo!" 

The firefight was blazing but fast, as Frank got them to the ground. They went in, taking out the rest of their targets with efficiency, until nothing stood between them and finding the cocaine. 

"Fan out," Steve said. "Search all the buildings until we find the--"

"Over here," Grover said, looking inside the nearest one. Steve ran over to see a bricks of cocaine in neat stacks all along the inside wall. What looked like a makeshift office was off to the right, a computer on top of a desk, books and papers haphazardly strewn over the surface beside it. 

Steve looked at the contrasts between the carefully stacked drugs and the messy desk. "At least we know where their priorities were," he said. "Joe, Lou, get the drugs together. Kono, with me."

He led Kono over to the desk and started looking through the papers. "Get into the computer," he told Kono. "See what you can find."

"What are you looking for?" 

"Alexander was so quick to get Danny out of the country. And he was eager to jump on a deal if we found the drugs." 

"You think he might be on the payroll instead of bankrolling it?" Kono asked.

Steve's smile was grim. "I certainly hope so."

He'd gone through all the papers and three books when Kono said, "Gotcha!"

"What?" he asked.

"There are records of payoffs in here," Kono said. "Detailed records, including a whole boatload of politicians and officials around South America." She looked up, a smile on her face for the first time in days. "And Sam Alexander." 

"You're sure?" Steve asked, because they couldn't be wrong. Danny's life depended on it.

She nodded. "Oh yeah. Address, phone number, bank account info, transactions--looks like Reyes was prepared to make deals if he pissed off any government involved." 

Steve took a deep breath. He couldn't count the victory yet. "Pack it up," he said. "Pull the files off, back them up, bring the hard drive for good measure, and put all the books in a bag." 

"What are you gonna do?" she asked.

"I'm gonna go burn some coke and get the trees around here high as a kite."

Her laugh was the second best thing he'd heard all day.

***

Danny thought he was delusional when the guards were pulled off him before he could lose consciousness. Then again, maybe he had passed out, and this was a dream, because for a second, he thought Steve was standing over him. 

Then the man moved, blocking the light, and Danny could see it was just a trick of his brain. For one thing, Steve would never be caught dead in that white suit. "Detective Williams," the man said, his heavily accented English nothing like Steve's, "please, come with me."

Danny tried to stand, but stumbled, and heard the man telling the guards to help him into the chair. When Danny was sitting up, he looked at the man again. Colombian, he could tell. Possibly military, possibly government, it was harder to tell. "Let me guess," Danny said, "if I pay you, you'll protect me?"

The man shook his head. "Can you get up?" Danny pushed to his feet, unsteady, but he stayed up. "Good," the man said, "come with me." 

Danny willed himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but it still took a ridiculously long time to get a few doors down to the room the man indicated. When Danny went inside, he saw a cot, and a table with food and bottled water. "Please, remain here," the man said. "I will return."

The door closed, and Danny heard it lock as he sat down on the cot, staring at the food and water and wondering which was more likely--that he'd lost his mind, or that they'd beaten him senseless and this was the best scenario his addled brain could come up with.

***

"That's the last of it," Joe said, throwing the final brick on the fire. 

"Good." Steve wiped the smoke and sweat off his brow. "Let's get back home before our clock runs out." 

"Steve," Kono said, "we can go back and deal with Alexander if you want to stay here and see Danny home safely."

Steve shook his head, even as part of him wanted nothing more than to go find Danny, who wasn't that far away, and keep him safe. "I made the deal with Alexander," Steve said. "I'm going back and making sure he goes through with it. Danny will be safer if I'm with Alexander."

Leaving Colombia behind with Danny still there was the hardest thing he'd done in a while, but he knew this was the right play. It was the smart play, the only play that brought Danny home for good instead of leaving him on the run. 

It was what Danny would do.

***

Alexander was ridiculously easy to find, but, then, Steve supposed with the payoff the guy was expecting, he'd want to be. Steve enjoyed running him off the road again a little too much, but any satisfaction drained from him at the sight of Alexander's face.

Steve wanted to punch him, wanted to rip his head off for what he'd done to them. To the team, to Grace, and especially Danny. But fighting wouldn't get him anywhere.

"We found your coke," Steve said, calm as anything.

"Where is it?"

"It's gone."

Alexander looked at them both like it was some kind of joke. "What do you mean, gone?" 

"I mean we destroyed it." Steve may not have been able to hit Alexander, but he took great pleasure in showing the asshole the video of his coke going up in smoke. 

Almost as much pleasure as he took in the anger on Alexander's face as he said, "You realize you just signed your friend's death warrant, right?"

"I don't think so," Steve said. "You see, at the same location, we didn't just find the drugs, we found Reyes's books." He let Alexander squirm, could see him wondering if Steve was bluffing, until Steve held up the thumb drive. The more Steve explained about the books, the more ill Alexander started to look, even as he tried to hide it. 

How the hell the guy had lasted this long as a spook, Steve didn't know.

"You never cared about justice," Steve said. "You never cared about the law. All you wanted was your piece of the action."

Alexander's attempt at trying to scare Steve was laughable. "Here's what's gonna happen," Steve said. "You're gonna have Detective Williams returned to U.S. soil with all charges dropped. And the second his plane touches down on Oahu, you're gonna resign, you're gonna collect your pension, and then you're gonna disappear. And if you don't," Steve said, leaning in a little to make his point, "this gets released."

He saw the capitulation in Alexander's face, and let out a long breath. 

It was almost over.

***

Danny was lying on the cot, trying to shift into some position that didn't hurt, when the door opened again. The man in the suit took about two steps inside the door and said, "Come with me."

"Where?" Danny asked.

"Please, Detective Williams, come with me."

Danny saw the two guards flanking the man and decided he might as well go. He pushed up to his feet with difficulty, snagging the only full bottle of water left as he walked by the table and out the door.

To his surprise, he was taken back through the entrance, and out the gates, to a waiting car. "What's going on?" he asked the man in the suit. 

"You are going home, Detective." 

Danny started to ask why, then how, then decided it didn't matter. Unless Steve had somehow sacrificed himself. "Why?" he asked.

"New evidence has come to light in the Reyes case," the man said. "It appears he was murdered by a rival drug lord who took advantage of your visit to inquire about your brother to frame you."

"Oh," Danny said, wondering how the hell this had happened. "Well, that is good news." 

"Yes, you have my country's apology," the man said. "Now, please, get in the car."

Still not a hundred percent sure any of this was real--or if he thought it was his imagination or an actual trick--Danny climbed into the car and closed the door.

***

"Yes, thank you," Alexander said into his phone, which was lying on Steve's desk, where Steve could hear both sides of the call. "We'll have someone there to meet him when he lands. I appreciate your urgency," Alexander added, before he pushed the button to end the call. He glared at Steve. "It's done." 

"Good."

"His plane is in the air, so how about the thumb drive?"

Steve shook his head. "Not so fast," he said. "When Danny lands and you disappear, I'll erase the thumb drive." 

"Fine," Alexander snapped. "Then I'll go home."

"Afraid not," Joe said, pushing off the wall by the door, where he'd been watching.

Alexander turned to him. "What?"

Steve stood. "We can't let you go until we know Danny's safe," he said, pulling Alexander to his feet as well. "You understand, right?"

"This is against my rights--"

Steve squeezed a little harder on Alexander's bicep. "You want to talk about rights? Seriously?"

Alexander back down.

"Good. Now, we've got a nice cozy room that'll be great for you until Danny's plane lands." Steve and Joe flanked Alexander as they took him down to the rendition room. "Enjoy the mood lighting," Steve said as he closed the door behind him. 

Joe waited until they were back upstairs to ask, "Are you really going to erase the thumb drive?"

"Of course," Steve said, frowning at him. "I'm a man of my word."

"What if he double crosses you?"

Steve shrugged. "I said I'd erase the thumb drive. I didn't say anything about the back ups, the hard drive or the paper copies."

Joe laughed. "That you did," he agreed.

"You should head out," Steve said. 

"You going home?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm going to stay here, just in case." He didn't put it past Alexander to make some kind of move, even stuck in the rendition room away from his phone. 

"I can stay, too."

Steve shrugged. "There's a nice couch in Grover's office."

"You gonna get some sleep?"

"In a minute," Steve said. "First, I need to make a call." At Joe's raised eyebrow, Steve said, "Gracie needs to know her dad's on the way home."

***

It wasn't until the plane, a U.S. Navy cargo plane, Danny noticed, took off that he actually believed he was going home. Even then he still had a hard time believing it. But no one pushed him out a hatch or seemed inclined to even talk to him. In fact, once someone had patched him up, they all seemed to find him unremarkable, most of them sleeping in their jump seats as if they were beds at the Hilton.

Danny dozed, but between the insanity of the last few days, the fact that every part of his body hurt, the inability to completely put his fears that this was still an elaborate hoax to rest, and the dreams that never quite seemed to stop, he didn't really sleep. 

Time seemed more fluid, though, and it took less of it than he would have thought before the plane changed sounds, beginning a descent. Danny sat up, trying to shake off his exhaustion and pain. His family had brought him home; the least he could do was greet them with a smile. 

He stepped out into the bright sun at Hickham, squinting around, seeing the small group over to the side, Steve and Grover towering over the rest of them. Danny started forward, but they were faster, meeting him not far from the plane. 

Steve was first, pulling him into a hug before Danny could even say hello. Steve was warm and solid and familiar, and Danny put his arms around him, finally believing he was actually home. 

He blinked away wetness from his eyes as he pulled back, Steve examining him critically. "You okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Danny said quietly, because everything hurt and he'd been through hell and he still wasn't quite sure he hadn't deserved it. But he was home. So he was okay. Or he would be when he saw his daughter. "Where's Grace?"

"Rachel's," Steve said. "She knows you're on the way, but we weren't sure what kind of shape you'd be in, so we thought...."

"Right. Good call." 

Kono stepped in. "Hey, stop hogging him all to yourself," she said, reaching out to hug Danny. He didn't miss how carefully she did it, or how careful the others were with him either. It hurt and helped all at the same time, that they felt they needed to be so careful, but he understood.

When they'd all welcomed him back, he looked at Steve. "Grace?"

"Yeah, come on." Steve led him inside, but instead of going straight through to the exit, he stopped at a room off to the side. At Danny's questioning look, Steve held up a bag and opened the door to reveal an office. "Thought you might want to clean up a little and change before you see Grace."

"Yeah, right, absolutely," Danny said, scrubbing a hand over his face as he followed Steve over to a small bathroom off the office. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

Steve's eyes were as soft as his voice, that small smile that Danny knew meant Steve had gone through his own kind of hell while Danny had been gone another thing to add to Danny's list of sins. Danny took the bag and closed the door. Not that Steve hadn't seen him naked. He just didn't want the pained looks he knew would come if Steve saw the extent of the damage on Danny's body. 

It looked worse than it felt. More or less. 

Steve was still watching him carefully as Danny came out. "You actually managed the three minute shower" Steve said. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well, my daughter is a good motivator."

"Let's get you to her, then," Steve said, taking the bag from Danny and holding open the office door. 

***

Steve couldn't help the glances he kept sneaking at Danny all the way to Rachel's. It was as if he had to watch, to make sure Danny didn't suddenly disappear. But he didn't. He sat there, staring out at the scenery as Steve filled him in on what had happened on their end while Danny had been gone. 

At the news of Coughlin's death, Danny winced. "The guy was a gung ho asshole," Danny said, "but he was still a cop."

"Gabriel will pay," Steve said quietly. 

Danny didn't reply, and Steve looked over at him to find his expression unreadable. 

When they pulled up to Rachel's, Danny surprised Steve by thanking him. As if he'd do anything other than deliver him to Grace himself, as promised? He decided to keep it light, though. "Or you could say Mahalo."

"Yeah," Danny said, dubiously, "I suppose I could."

"Still, huh?" Steve said, his heart sinking just a little. "After all these years, you still hate this place."

The thought of it bothered him more than it had in a while. For all his supposed hatred, Danny had seemed to find a home here. Had called it his and Grace's home. Had made it a home again for Steve, in many ways. 

Steve just wanted Danny to enjoy it.

"Oh, no, buddy," Danny said. "I'm still trying to figure out a way to like you, okay? Forget this place."

"Fair enough," Steve said, but for all that Danny was trying to keep it light, Steve had to ask. He had to know. "Let me ask you a question," he said. "Why didn't you lawyer up? Why didn't you get a lawyer to fight this thing?"

Danny considered the question for a moment. Steve knew Danny had to know the answer, so he must be trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth. "I don't know," he said finally. "I don't think there's any lawyer who could change what I did."

Nothing could change what he'd done. That didn't mean he should be made to pay for what was essentially a service to mankind. "They could get you off, Danny."

"All right," Danny said slowly, "look. I've been living with what I did, feeling a certain way about it ever since I did it, okay? And maybe some crazy part of me just didn't want to feel that way anymore, y'know?"

Steve didn't know. Well, he did--the insomnia, Danny's nightmares--he'd known, deep down, it was more than just Matt. He'd known on the plane back from Colombia that day that Danny wasn't built to carry this kind of burden. Not like Steve was. 

Repression had its benefits. 

"I get it," Steve said.

"But that does not mean," Danny said, "that I am not happy and grateful that I am here, so thank you, partner."

The words warmed the cold spots left by Danny's Hawaii issues. "No," Steve said, to make it clear that he understood what Danny had done for him. "You're the one who was ready to go to jail to keep me out of it. I should be thanking you."

"That's what family does, right?"

"Yeah," Steve said, that warm feeling swelling up through him. He reached for the seatbelt before he did something stupid like reaching for Danny instead.

Grace came flying out of the house, yelling "Danno," the sight of that, along with Danny's smile, turning that warm feeling into something incredible.

"Speaking of which," Danny said. "How do I look?"

"You look great," Steve said, honestly. Because bruised and battered and still carrying around a burden Steve wished he could lift, Danny was there, and that alone made him look amazing.

"Thanks," Danny said, getting stiffly out of the truck, but straightening and walking much more normally when Grace came into view.

Steve watched as they hugged, as Danny picked her up as though he wasn't in agony in every muscle and held her close. As though his pain meant nothing as long as she could feel safe. 

That warm feeling went through him again, heating up until it burned, leaving him feeling prickly and hot all over. He frowned, turning the feeling over in his head, trying to figure out what it meant. 

A door closing distracted him, and he looked over to find Joe walking up. "We earned our Trident today," Joe said, watching Danny and Grace.

"Hooyah," Steve said, pushing that odd feeling down to examine later, forgetting about it completely at Joe's admission a moment later. 

He wasn't really surprised that Joe had figured out about the surveillance--the man had trained him, after all. He wasn't even surprised that Joe was, again, telling him that he needed Steve to trust him. Of course he did. It was easier for him to lie then. 

But he'd play the game, and maybe in the process get a tip on Joe's contact, who might help him find his mother. 

"You know, I'd, uh...I'd still like to thank your contact," Steve said. "I mean, whoever gave you that classified intel on the refinery really put themself on the line. Who owes you, Joe?"

He could see Joe trying to decide on truth or a lie. So much for wanting Steve's trust, if he still had to think about it. "It's not who owed me, Steve," he said finally. "It's who owes you."

Steve ran down the list of people who owed him favors, but couldn't think of who it might be. He'd called in a lot of them over the years. 

"It was your mother," Joe said.

The words took a moment to penetrate, but once they did, he realized he should've known. The only question in his mind, had he been thinking straight, should have been whether or not Joe had been in touch with her all along and kept it from him. 

It also explained Steve's freedom. "Is that the real reason I wasn't arrested with Danny?" he asked.

"Yes."

He didn't even know how to handle this, especially now, on top of whatever else was rattling around his head. "So she saved me and let Danny go to jail."

"She got you the evidence to free him," Joe reminded him. "She tried to get him out of there, but by the time she got wind of what was going on, it was too late. So she did what she could to help."

And was ultimately responsible for the intel that got Danny back, even if he was a little worse for the wear. It didn't exactly make her mother of the year, and it sure as hell didn't make a dent in what she owed Steve, even if he didn't want anything from her except an explanation. And that was the one thing she seemed to be unable to give him.

That and the honor of her presence. 

"Is she coming back?"

Joe shook his head. "She can't. She's still in danger, and she'd put you at risk."

So she says. But all Steve said was , "Okay," as he reined himself in. "Okay. I, uh...thank you." 

"I didn't do anything."

"You told me the truth," Steve said. Assuming he had told Steve all of it. And that it was true. "That's something." 

Steve pushed off the truck. "I gotta go inside," he said, as Danny and Grace disappeared in to the house. "I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"I'm around when you want to talk."

Steve wasn't sure when that would be, but he nodded as he headed for the driveway.

***

Danny looked up as Steve walked in. Grace jumped up to hug Steve, and Danny smiled as he saw how easy Steve was with her, even as he could see how much Steve reveled in the hug. "Thank you," Grace said, as she slipped out of Steve's arms and back over to sit beside Danny. 

"For what?"

"You said you'd bring Danno home. And you did."

"I ever break a promise to you?" he asked. 

She shook her head. "Never."

"Good."

There was something off, Danny realized, something that hadn't been there when Danny had gotten out of the truck. Danny frowned at Steve over Grace's head, but Steve just shook his head and waved. 

So there was something, but it wasn't something Steve wanted to discuss in front of Grace. That wasn't comforting, given everything that had happened the last few days. But Danny put it aside and just enjoyed the evening.

***

Grace had insisted on Danny and Steve staying for dinner, and Rachel was more gracious about it than Steve had expected her to be. When he caught her looking at Danny a few times, though, he understood. The two of them might be over, but there was too much shared history for her not to care about what happened to him. Not to mention what it might do to Grace. 

They stayed until Grace's bedtime, Steve watching from the bedroom door as Danny tucked Grace in. That feeling welled up again, warming him, and he pushed it aside to think about later. 

First he had to tell Danny about Doris. 

***

"Okay," Danny said when they got in the truck. "What happened?"

Steve glanced at him before pulling out onto the street. "When?"

He hoped Steve was just clarifying and not evading, because he thought they'd gotten past that. "Between when I left the truck and you left the truck?"

"Joe showed up," Steve said.

The words were quick enough that Danny figured Steve hadn't been evading after all. Danny only hoped it had nothing to do with Reyes, though Steve didn't seem anxious. More like...pissed. Or hurt. "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to trust him." Steve glanced over at Danny again before turning his attention back to the road. "So he told me who his contact was."

"Who?"

"Doris."

The most surprising thing about that was that Danny was surprised at all. "That explains why Alexander was so careful to keep you out of it," Danny said. "I thought it was because he was using you to railroad me, but apparently you were off limits from the start."

"I'm sorry, Danny."

"Sorry?" Danny shook his head. "You couldn't have done anything from the cell next to mine, Steve. In saving you, she kept you where you could save me. And gave you the tools to do it."

"So, what," Steve said, shooting him another glance, "are you saying I should be grateful to her?"

"No," Danny said quietly. "I can't tell you how to feel. I'm just pointing out that you have no reason to be sorry. I got us into this mess, and she helped you get us out."

Steve let out a breath. "You didn't get us into this mess, Danny. Matt did."

"Matt didn't put a gun in my hand and make me shoot Reyes, Steve. I chose that."

"You had to."

"I know." At Steve's raised eyebrow, Danny said again, "I know. I do. I've done my penance," he said, waving a hand at the injuries on his face. "I'm done being guilty for it. But that doesn't mean it's not my fault."

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but he was apparently learning, because he just kept driving.

***

Steve pulled up in front of his house and turned off the truck, turning to see Danny dozing against the window. "Hey, Danno," Steve said softly, rubbing Danny's arm.

Danny looked around. "This is your house." 

"Yeah, I know. I live here."

"Why are we at your house?"

"Because we both need some sleep," Steve said honestly, too tired to even sugarcoat it. "And this way we might stand a chance of getting it." 

He waited for Danny to argue, but after a few seconds, Danny just shrugged and got out of the truck. He followed Steve inside, and Steve turned to find Danny rolling his shoulders and neck as if it might work out the stiffness. 

"Go take a shower, Danny," Steve said, nudging Danny towards the stairs. "I'll be up in a minute."

He was tempted to offer to help, but he'd seen the way Danny had been so careful not to let Steve see him even shirtless. Which, of course, made Steve want to check for damage even more, but he could be patient. 

Steve checked the locks and turned the alarm on, then went into the kitchen, staring out at the ocean as he drank some water. He wasn't sure what to make of Danny being so docile. Though maybe it was just because Steve hadn't bothered to hide his reasons or make excuses.

Apparently therapy had done them some good after all.

He heard the water start on the shower off his room, and decided to take a quick shower in the other one. He was in bed by the time Danny came out of the bathroom in a warm haze of steam, his hair damp, sticking out in places. Some of his clothes had never left Steve's house, so Danny was covered in sweat pants and a t-shirt, keeping Steve from seeing how much damage there was to most of Danny's body.

His arms were as bruised as Steve had expected, though, dark spots easily visible in the bright moonlight. Experience told Steve what he'd probably find if he got Danny out of those clothes. But he still wanted very much to get Danny out of them, and not just to check the damage. 

That warm feeling he'd had earlier had taken up residence somewhere inside him, like some kind of pilot light he couldn't shut off. Didn't want to shut off, if he was honest. He liked the way it felt, like something that could keep him from freezing out the world again, something that could protect him from everything his mother's antics did that made his soul feel cold. 

"Okay," Danny said, his voice soft and gravelly, making Steve swallow hard. "Now I know something's wrong."

"Why?"

"I just broke the three minute rule by about infinity and you're not even mad."

Steve laughed, shifting on his back in bed, the covers low around his hips. He hadn't bothered with his shirt, and he didn't miss the way Danny's eyes flickered down before they met his again. "Under the circumstances," Steve said, his voice low, "I think you earned a pass."

"Oh, well, if that's the case," Danny said, climbing under the covers, "then I should go to prison more often."

"Don't," Steve said, a chill blowing across that light inside him. He rolled onto his side, eyes intent on Danny's. "Just...don't."

He wasn't even sure what he was asking Danny not to do--not to go to prison? Or not to joke about it? But Danny seemed to understand, his mouth twisting into that weird smile that shouldn't be attractive and yet was so hot it made Steve grip the sheets to keep from reaching out. "Hey," Danny said, the word a near whisper, "I'm not going anywhere, all right?"

Steve didn't bother to deny whatever Danny thought was going on--Danny probably knew whatever it was better than Steve did anyway. "Good," Steve said. 

"I have to say, though," Danny said, a teasing note in his tone, "I kept half expecting you to break into the detention center or stop the plane or rappel down from the ceiling of the prison or something to rescue me."

It was a joke, intended to lighten the mood, Steve knew, but he couldn't let it pass. He had to make sure Danny understood. "I wouldn't," he said, his hand wrapping around Danny's wrist because he needed the connection to finish the confession. "That might've freed you, but it wouldn't have gotten you home. It would have made you a fugitive. And you're needed here." Steve cleared his throat, aware suddenly of how that sounded. "I promised Grace I'd bring you home."

Danny looked at him for a long moment, and Steve forgot how to breathe. "Come here," Danny said, pulling Steve into his arms and into a kiss. 

Steve found his breath in Danny's mouth, warm and safe and more amazing than he remembered. Different than he remembered, all of it was different, he realized, as he rolled Danny onto his back, careful to support himself so Danny's sore torso wasn't taking Steve's weight. 

He sat up, looking down at Danny for a moment, that smile firmly in place, making Steve want to kiss it until he could memorize the feel on his lips. The need to explore, though, to make sure Danny wasn't permanently damaged, was stronger.

Steve pushed Danny's shirt up, swallowing hard as the damage was revealed bit by bit. The bruises were black and purple and ugly, even in moonlight, and Steve felt something dark in his gut, wanted to go smash every person who'd dared mark Danny like this. 

The strength of it staggered him for just a second, but he got it under control before the smile could fully disappear from Danny's face. Steve dipped his head, starting with the bruises just above Danny's sweatpants, and working his way up until he'd tasted and soothed every single one. 

Danny was writhing underneath him, and Steve could feel how hard Danny was through the sweatpants, every bump of his cock against Steve's sending little electric shocks through Steve's body. Not yet, though. No, first Steve needed to see all the damage, needed to try his best to erase it somehow with his touch. 

He knelt beside Danny, the covers fully down, and tugged at the sweatpants and underwear until Danny was naked. Steve's mouth watered at the sight of Danny's cock, hard and curving towards Danny's stomach, but he had other things he needed to do first. 

He made his way down Danny's right leg, tasting each bruise carefully before working his way back up the left leg. Danny's groan when Steve told him to roll over made him smile, even as Danny obeyed immediately. 

By the time Steve had finished carefully cataloging every bruise up and down Danny's back, neck to toe, Danny was pushing into the sheets, looking for friction. Steve nudged, and Danny rolled onto his back once more, biting his lip on a smile, his eyes bright and clear, no hint of the clouds that had lived there for months. 

Steve would give anything to keep those clouds away, but he knew all he could do was temporary. Still, it was better than nothing.

"I think you missed a spot," Danny murmured.

"On the contrary," Steve said. "I was very thorough." 

Danny shook his head. "No, you definitely missed a spot." He nodded downward. "You can't miss it down there, Steven. It's straining to get your attention."

"Oh, well, in that case." Steve placed a soft kiss on Danny's lips before kissing his way back down until he reached Danny's cock. He slipped his lips slowly over it, savoring the chance to do this right, no driving anger or need other than his need for Danny, right here and right now. 

The feel of Danny moving under him, his hands fluttering around Steve's shoulders and head, the sounds that were coming out of his throat, was like nothing Steve had ever known. He wanted it to last, but he could tell Danny was close, and Steve wanted Danny over the edge even more. 

Danny surged up, hot liquid filling Steve's mouth as Danny managed a strangled version of Steve's name. Steve refused to let go, sucking him through his orgasm until Danny subsided. He let Danny's cock slip out of his mouth at last, taking a minute to catch his breath while Danny did the same.

"You," Danny muttered at last, sounding wrecked. "Come here." 

He pulled Steve up to face him, and wow, if Danny had sounded wrecked, it was nothing compared to how he looked, hair everywhere, face flushed, eyes sleepy. That look would be embedded on the back of Steve's eyelids from now on, he knew it. 

Danny pulled him into a kiss, slow and hot and wet, and Steve melted into it, his cock sliding against Danny's sweat slicked body. It didn't take much before Steve fell, coming between them, Danny swallowing all of Steve's cries with more kisses. 

As Steve caught his breath, he finally believed that Danny was actually home. They'd dodged a bullet, a horrible, terrible bullet, but Danny was really there, in Steve's arms and in one piece, more or less. 

Danny pushed him back a little, and Steve prepared for Danny to say he had to go, or to make a joke to ease the tension he could feel between them. "I'm sorry," Danny said, instead. "I gave in. I should've fought, but I just gave in and I...."

"It's okay," Steve said. "It's okay. I get it." 

And he did. He and Danny weren't the same. Steve could have shot Reyes and slept like a baby afterwards. Danny couldn't. Steve wished again that he could've done it, could've taken that burden from Danny. 

But he couldn't. So he had to figure out how to get Danny to live with it.

Steve pushed Danny's hair back out of his face. "Just...don't do that again, all right?" Steve asked, even though he had no right. Danny wasn't his to ask that of.

Except it felt a lot like he was. 

"I won't," Danny said, his hand on Steve's neck, thumb rubbing along Steve's jaw line. "Not if I have any other choice. I won't."

"Good." 

Danny pulled him close, and Steve buried his face in Danny's neck, smelling the combination of Danny and sex. That fire inside had flared at some point while they were having sex, and as Steve lay there, breathing Danny in, it stayed, a sweet hot burn that he hoped wouldn't get too out of control.

***


	19. Chapter 19

_Danny felt the texture of Steve's hair slipping through his fingers, soft and amazing, but nothing compared to the feeling of Steve's hands, so careful and gentle on Danny's hips, and Steve's lips and tongue covering every bruise on Danny's body, replacing pain with pleasure. It was so good, too good--Danny felt like he was drowning in it, and he didn't want it to stop. Ever._

Danny jerked awake, rubbing his eyes as if it could dispel the memory of the dream--or the memory that caused the dreams in the first place. He almost wished for the nightmares instead--those, at least, he had plenty of experience putting in their proper place.

He seemed to have completely lost the proper place for whatever was going on with Steve. 

Until recently, he'd have sworn there was nothing going on with Steve, not like that, though he knew now he'd been lying to himself. He'd thought sex between them had been about anger or the need to forget, nothing more, wholly separate from everything else that made up their relationship. 

When they'd started sleeping together--and only sleeping together--it had been about helping each other. About the trust and love between them. Sex hadn't entered into it--that one Christmas Eve episode aside. 

He'd known then that he'd needed to put a little distance between them, even as he'd pushed to get Steve to drop all his barriers. Danny had gotten what he'd asked for, and then some. Steve's confession about the guitar seemed to have been one of the last barriers, and since then Steve had been...different. 

That night Danny had returned from Colombia, Steve had definitely been different. Careful. Almost reverent as he'd kissed every bruise, as if that could take the pain away. 

The really odd thing, and not at all alarming, Danny told himself, was that it had helped. He hadn't felt nearly as sore or achy the next morning. It should've been a relief, but all it had done was show him how much of him was wrapped up in Steve. That dependence he'd been trying to wean himself off of had only gotten worse.

After that, Danny had needed to get away. Not just to recuperate, but to regain balance. To put his brain right, and to stand on his own two feet. 

His phone buzzed, and Danny tensed, knowing who it had to be. He couldn't ignore it, though. He picked up the phone carefully, glancing at the text.

_when is your flight due in?_

Danny closed his eyes for a brief moment. He might need the distance to stand on his own--or sleep on his own, as the case may be--but Steve had been the one Danny had left. Danny had essentially deserted him to go take his punishment, or whatever--he still wasn't entirely sure what he'd been doing. The whole thing was like a dream that had happened to someone else. 

However much Danny needed distance, Steve still needed Danny. 

_4 pm Thursday. like I told you last time_

The response was quick. _right. sorry. was planning something and couldn't remember. sorry._

Danny sighed, getting quietly out of bed and going out behind the house, punching the button to call Steve. At Steve's answer, Danny said, "You were planning at three a.m., Steven?"

The answer was slow in coming. "I couldn't sleep."

Danny sat down. "Nightmares?" he asked.

"No." Steve's sigh was painful to Danny's ear. "I'd have to be able to fall asleep to have a nightmare."

"What happened?"

Steve let out a shaky breath before he said, "I stumbled over a case this morning when I went to see Odell."

Danny listened as Steve told him about the siege at Moku Cuts. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" Danny said when Steve finished talking about how they'd used a barber shop version of a Molotov cocktail to get out. 

"I could've used the backup," Steve said, but something was off in his tone. 

"But you got out. And you got the guy."

"What makes you so sure?"

His tone was still off, and concerning. "I know you," Danny said.

"I did get the guy," Steve said, but he didn't sound happy about it. "Only the guy wasn't who I thought it was."

"What?"

"The kid lied," Steve said. "He didn't witness a murder." Another shaky breath. "His own father had sent the Armenians after him."

"I'm sorry," Danny said, "I thought you said the kid's father put a hit out on him."

Steve blew out a long breath, and Danny braced himself for what was coming next. "His father was the head of the local Armenian gang, but apparently even he couldn't stomach what Eran had done."

The line was silent for a few seconds, "Steve," Danny said softly. "What'd he do?"

"You know that string of missing kids the last six months?"

Danny thought he might be sick. "Yeah."

"Eran...was responsible."

Danny didn't like the way Steve said that. "Responsible for what?" he asked, not because he thought it was something he wanted to hear, but because he thought Steve needed to get it out.

"Eran had a room at their house that was his," Steve said, and Danny recognized that tone. That was Steve's military reporting tone, the one that creeped Danny out because it was devoid of emotion. "He padlocked it, wouldn't let anyone in. His father heard noises, though, and got suspicious, so he waited until Eran was gone one day and he broke in."

He heard Steve swallow, and when he spoke again, that tone was gone. "That room...Danny...." 

Danny's heart twisted at the pain in Steve's voice. He wanted to be there to offer support. To help, in the only way he knew how. But he couldn't. He was here. All he could do was force Steve to talk about it. "What did you find?"

"He had toys and clothes--trophies. And pictures. Fuck." Steve took a long, shaky breath. "Danny, the pictures...I can't close my eyes without seeing them."

"What happened to Eran?" Danny asked after a moment.

"Dead. He took Odell hostage and tried to run. I shot him."

And there was the grim satisfaction Danny was familiar with, the tone he knew so well. Sometimes you couldn't fix what had happened, but you could make damn sure it didn't happen again.

He was far too familiar with the feeling lately. 

"Good," Danny said, because it needed to be said. "He won't do it again."

"No."

It wasn't enough, Danny knew, it was just all there was. "Look, I can come back early--"

"No, don't do that," Steve said quickly. "You need a break after...everything." Steve sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to call and interrupt--"

"Hey," Danny said firmly. "No. You didn't interrupt. You need me, you call. Always." Danny cleared his throat. "That's the deal, all right?"

He heard a small huff of what would almost have been laughter under different circumstances. "All right," Steve said quietly. "I got it."

"Good." Danny shifted in his chair, moving the phone to his other ear. "You sure you don't want me to come home?"

"I don't need you to come home."

Which was not what Danny asked. He'd asked if Steve wanted him to come home, and he didn't think Steve's choice of 'need' had been an accident. But Steve had said no twice. Danny would honor his wishes. "So...you think you can sleep now?" Danny asked.

"I...uh...no. I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again."

Danny pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to offer to come home a third time. "What can I do to help?" he asked at last.

"Just talk to me for a few more minutes, okay?"

"Sure." Danny thought back for something that would lighten the mood, distract Steve from the darkness that wasn't just about night time. "Did I ever tell you about the time Grace decided she should've been a boy?"

"She did what?"

"Oh yes..." Danny launched into a story that left them without scissors in the house for six months, and hoped that it would help.

If not, he had a thousand other stories and hours before sunrise.

***


	20. Chapter 20

Steve's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see Danny's face on the screen. He answered quickly with, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Danny said, though he sounded like he wasn't. "Why?"

"I've been trying to call you, but it kept going to voicemail." 

"Yeah, Shaw and I kind of got stuck in an elevator."

That explained why Danny didn't sound okay--talk about a claustrophobe's nightmare. "You really okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I am." 

Steve caught the distinction then between okay and over it--Danny might be okay, but he clearly wasn't completely over it. "Are you on the way back?"

"Not yet. We got a lead on the case while we were stuck in the elevator."

"You got a lead in the elevator?"

"Yeah, we were looking at the body and found some evidence. So we're going to check into it."

It sounded like there was a story there. "Okay."

"Everything okay there?"

Aside from Grover looking like he was going to put his fist through a wall? "Yeah, we're good. See you later?"

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

Steve heard the line click off, frowning at his phone for a second before shoving it back in his pocket.

***

Steve was drying the last of his dinner dishes after a late meal when the front door opened. He put the dish away and turned to see Danny walking into the kitchen, looking as tired as he'd sounded on the phone earlier. "Solve your case?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded, reaching into the fridge for a beer. He held it out to Steve, who took it, leaving Danny to grab another. "Pretty cut and dried--bloody fingerprint on the body really helps close a case fast."

"Good." If it had been much longer, Steve would've been hunting Danny down to help. "How are you doing?"

Danny shrugged as he took a long drink. "Thinking I might take the stairs for a while." 

"How long were you guys stuck?" 

"A few hours."

Damn. Steve had known it had been a while, because he'd had trouble reaching Danny, but he hadn't realized it had been quite that long. "I'm sorry, man."

Danny shrugged again. "At least Shaw managed to keep me distracted."

Steve swallowed back whatever it was--he was absolutely not calling it jealousy--that rose up from his gut at that. Helping Danny through claustrophobia was not Steve's sole prerogative, no matter what his lizard brain seemed to think. "Did you see any of the Devils game?" Steve asked. 

Danny shook his head. "Haven't heard the score."

"Come on," Steve said, nudging Danny as he walked past him into the living room. "I recorded it." 

***

Steve watched as the last seconds of the third period ticked off the clock for a rare Devils win. He looked over to see Danny's eyes closed, his slow even breathing making it clear he was asleep. 

Up close, with no one to notice Steve studying so close, he saw the purple smudges under Danny's eyes, the way his face didn't quite relax, even in sleep. While some of Danny's weariness that night had probably been due to the elevator, Steve would bet money Danny wasn't sleeping that well to begin with.

Which meant he'd probably have little chance of sleeping if he went home.

Danny's eyes blinked open, fixing on Steve's for a long moment, something flaring in them before Danny looked away, focusing on the TV instead. "We win?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Maybe you should sleep through more games, they might have a better record."

"Maybe," Danny said, stretching, his shirt riding up, that glimpse of skin making Steve swallow hard. "Then again, maybe not."

Steve chuckled softly. "Might take a little more than that, yeah."

Danny checked his phone. "It's late," he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. "I should probably get home."

He made no move to get up, though, so Steve said, "Stay," as casually as he could manage. "It's late, no point in going home when you're tired."

Danny's lips thinned, his eyes on the commercial on TV for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Thanks."

"Sure." Steve got up, turning off the TV. "I'm going for a shower. Come on up whenever you're ready."

"Thanks."

Steve managed to walk normally all the way up to his room. He was in bed by the time he heard the shower in the other bathroom kick in, but he was still awake when Danny came quietly into the room, walking through the darkness as easily as if he were at home. 

The bed dipped, and Steve stayed on his side, his back to Danny, trying to pretend like he was already asleep. He felt Danny settling in, could feel his warmth where he lay, mere inches away. 

Steve let that heat seep into him until it soothed him to sleep.

***


	21. Chapter 21

Danny jerked out of sleep, looking around his moonlit bedroom, the echo of a phantom gunshot still ringing in his ears. He wasn't even sure who'd been shot or who'd done the shooting--the dreams varied so much anymore they all ran together. 

It didn't matter anyway--it always ended in his loss. In his destruction.

The bar had been...nice. Normal, despite the incongruity of Jerry singing Elvis. It had been a slice of the past, like their lives had been before they went from just crappy to completely insane. Before drug cartels and Yakuza feuds and lost family and friends. 

When Danny had dropped Steve off, Steve had invited him in for a beer, as expected. It had taken everything in Danny to say no. He'd known it would end in an offer to stay, and that he wouldn't be able to resist. 

He had to resist. He had to stand on his own. 

Because one day something was going to happen to Steve, and Danny couldn't go around murdering everyone responsible for killing the people he loved.

He turned onto his side and picked up his phone, sending a text. _Breakfast before work?_

Melissa's answer was quicker than he'd expected at 5 a.m. _Love to. Our spot? 8?_

_See you there._

He put the phone down and rolled onto his side, feeling better about taking decisive action. This was the right thing to do. He'd made up his mind. 

He stared at the clock, resolute, until the sun came up.

***


	22. Chapter 22

Steve tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he inched the Camaro along in traffic. They were less than half a mile from the bar, and he practically itched to get out and walk instead, to get there faster. He couldn't even use the sirens, since there was literally nowhere to go but the sidewalk full of people.

He loved his home, but sometimes he really hated the tourists.

Danny had been quiet on the drive. Steve wondered how much of that had to do with the angry voicemails they'd listened to, and the reminders of Danny's failed marriage. Or if any of it had Danny thinking about his current relationship. 

"So," Steve said, pausing to clear his throat, "how's Am-Melissa?" 

"Good," Danny said shortly, turning to look out the window. 

Steve checked the mirror and turned carefully onto Beretania. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together."

He saw Danny's shrug out of the corner of his eye. "I realize you probably don't know a lot about this, given how little time you spent with your ex even before she was your ex, but most couples actually enjoy spending time together." 

"Really?" Steve said. "Tell that to Lockhard and his buddies. Better yet, tell it to the wives they left to come here to try to cheat on."

"Clearly those three are not an example."

Steve nodded. He got that, he did. But he saw the same kind of bad examples every day, and not just with crimes. People would go to extremes to get away from their supposed 'better half.' 

Even when relationships were good they could go wrong. Danny and Gabby, for example--they'd been perfectly happy, and then a job put an end to it. Six months on the mainland was too much for them.

Of course, Melissa's husband had tried to kill Danny, and that hadn't stopped them. 

"Okay," Danny said, "you've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that makes me want to double check my insurance policy because you might do something crazy that endangers my health and or life."

Steve frowned at him. "What?"

"Who pissed you off?"

"Nobody."

Danny ducked his head, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "Right, so that look's just for nothing?"

"I don't have a look, Danny."

"You don't have a mirror," Danny replied.

Steve nodded at the rearview mirror. "I do," he said, "right there, where I can clearly see that I don't have a look."

"If you say so."

Steve sighed as he pulled into the parking lot by the first bar and stopped the car. "Can we go in and interview the bartender now?" Steve asked. "Or is there anything else wrong with my face?"

Danny rolled his eyes as he opened the car door. "Nothing wrong with your face," he said as Steve caught up with him. "Keep it just like that and people will be too afraid to tell us anything but the truth."

***

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Danny said, as he walked out of the the latest bar, "but that bathroom is disgusting."

Steve shrugged. "Spring break."

"Is that another catch all, like 'island time' only for disgusting behavior instead of lazy?"

Steve ignored that as he fell into step beside Danny heading . "Grover called," he said. "He talked to the cab driver, who dropped our guys off at The Fix."

"You know," Danny said, rounding the car and getting in, "I have this vague recollection of bars actually being something fun to look forward to once upon a time. Now they're just crime scenes."

Steve pulled out of the parking space. "Hopefully this is the last one," he said. Normally he enjoyed the chase of tracking down leads, as long as it wasn't a race against time before something else happened, but an endless stream of college kids partying until they dropped made him feel about ninety today. 

"You ever think we're getting too old for this shit?" Danny asked.

Steve laughed softly. "I was just wondering the same thing."

He heard Danny's phone buzz, and saw Danny pull it out of his pocket and check his messages, before texting something. "You know, for someone with 'goofy thumbs' you text more than Gracie these days."

"Melissa's a texter," Danny said. 

Steve bit back a comment about the perils of dating a millennial. After all, he'd been the one to suggest Danny go after her, damn the age difference. He couldn't exactly use it against him now. "Okay, but if you get carpal tunnel, you're not getting worker's comp."

"One thing about texting," Danny said, putting his phone away. "You'd think it would get easier to get ditched for the evening, but it's not."

"She ditched you?"

"She has to work late," Danny said with a shrug. "Not like I haven't canceled plans on her for work before."

Except her job wasn't saving people and protecting the city. "Well, if you don't have plans, want to order in and watch a game?"

Danny's hesitation was so slight Steve thought he might've imagined it. "Sure," Danny said. "Sounds good."

There was nothing off in his tone, Steve told himself. He was hearing things.

***

Steve pulled onto his street when he heard Danny's phone buzz. Danny pulled it out, the glow of the backlight harsh in the dark car. "Oh, hey," Danny said after reading the screen. "Melissa's free after all. Can we take a rain check on dinner?"

"Of course," Steve said, parking the car with more care than it really required at the house where he'd learned how to park in the first place. "Go have fun. We can do it another night."

"Thanks," Danny said, his smile bright. 

Steve opened the car door. "Don't mention it," he said, getting out. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called as Danny rounded the other side. 

"Yeah, pick you up in the morning. Night."

"Night."

Steve went into the house without looking back. The door echoed a little through the house as he closed it, the silence of the place almost deafening in its wake. He went through to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, knocking the cap off and taking a long drink. 

He could hear the clock from the dining room, the loud tick tock making him wonder if there was something wrong with it. Maybe he should have it checked out. It wasn't normally that loud. 

He focused on the sound of the waves instead, trying to let it drown everything else out, but that wasn't working, so he went outside and down to the beach, closer to the sound, trying to let it sooth him. 

It helped a little, but not nearly as much as it usually did. He felt...odd, on guard, like there was something just out of view, catching the corner of his eye occasionally, but not long enough to be identified. 

A couple of long drinks later he got up and went back inside, turning on the TV as he sat down on the couch. He flipped through the channels, but there was nothing worth watching, so he turned it off and finished off his beer instead. 

He should eat something, even if it was more to have something to do than actually wanting food. He went through the motions, concentrating on making his dinner, but once he'd eaten it, he still had that feeling. 

This was why he'd been looking forward to having Danny over for dinner, to avoid this kind of silence that had been growing across the house like a dark cloud. Well, that, and he missed Danny. Not that he didn't see him all the time, but it wasn't the same. 

He missed Danny after hours. Not the sex--okay, not just the sex, if he was going to be honest with himself, as he opened his fourth beer. If he's really honest, he missed the sex. But more than that he missed that thing, that intangible...something between them. 

It wasn't gone. He still felt it there, that undercurrent whenever Danny was around, no matter what. It was just a little muted with Danny spending so much time with Melissa, and therefore not with Steve. 

And if he was going to be really, brutally, four beers in a short time honest with himself--and for all Steve had been told more than once that he was good at self-delusion, he wasn't nearly as good at that as he let people believe--he might actually want more than just sex. 

Which was a hell of a revelation for a Thursday night, or any night, for that matter. Not that the revelation really mattered. Given Danny's happiness with Melissa, Steve would be the worst person on the planet to try and screw that up. 

Though Danny had seemed quite happy with Melissa back when he'd still been sleeping with Steve. Only now he wasn't sleeping with Steve. He wasn't even texting in the middle of the night, and Steve had seen the dark circles a few times. He knew the nightmares hadn't ended.

Still, he seemed happy. Who was Steve to fuck that up? And who was Steve to risk losing the best thing in his life by making a move if he was wrong?

He'd need to think it through when he was sober and less bone-weary exhausted. But since he was not sober, and he was exhausted, drinking the rest of the six pack seemed like a fine idea instead of thinking. 

***


	23. Chapter 23

Danny sat up, shaking off the phantom feel of punches and kicks, laughter and Spanish still harsh in his ears as if it had been real. It wasn't, of course--reality was the quiet, moonlight room, Amber--no, Melissa, he reminded himself--lying beside him, eyes opening, a frown already starting before she was even fully awake.

"Hey," she said, her voice rough with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Danny said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Just...bathroom." He pushed the covers back. "Go back to sleep."

Her frown deepened, but after a moment she nodded and closed her eyes, sinking back into the pillow. Danny grabbed his phone and walked out, closing the door behind him. He went into the bathroom and went through the motions, even though it was unnecessary, in case she was listening. 

Once he was done, he made his way to the living room, dropping heavily on the couch and leaning back into the cushions, eyes closed, seeking sleep again. Darkness slowly gave way to bright sunlight and the smell of garbage, the weight of duffle bags full of money heavy in his hands. 

Danny opened his eyes again, picking up his phone from where it had fallen in his lap and staring at it for a long time. He can't text Steve, but the phone itself is like his own personal security blanket, and sometimes just having it in hand helped. 

But not tonight. 

Seeing Kono so still in her hospital bed had been slightly terrifying. Seeing Adam's face as he watched her, watching him hold on tighter than usual after almost losing her, had been a different kind of terrifying. 

Danny knew that fear, had felt it on three different continents more times than he wanted to remember, waiting to see if Steve was alive or dead. 

He'd known Kono was like Steve, but he hadn't realized just how much until he'd seen Adam's face. Danny would worry about Steve's influence on Kono, except Steve had also taught her things that would keep her safe. Things that, had she been just a normal cop, not knowing them might've already gotten her killed.

Then again, she might not be in as much danger all the time if she'd been just a normal cop.

He turned on the TV, intent on forgetting the entire line of thinking, but flipping through every channel twice yielded nothing to distract him. He hit the power button, darkening the room once more as he tossed the remote onto the coffee table. 

He looked at his phone, sighing before pushing a button. The ocean, or a tinny approximation of it, came through the phone's speaker. A pale imitation, but, he'd discovered recently, effective enough. 

He plugged the phone into the charger on the end table, left there just for nights like this, and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, curling up under it with his head on a pillow, letting the sound pull him back into sleep.

***


	24. Chapter 24

Danny woke up, surprised to find himself in his own bed. He'd gone out to the couch at some point after a nightmare, and didn't remember having come back to bed. 

Melissa was there, looking as beautiful as ever, still in the same gorgeous underwear she'd revealed the night before, when he'd made an excuse about being exhausted from work and just gone to sleep, still in his shorts.

She definitely wasn't the suspicious type, but even the non-suspicious type should be wondering what was going on by now. 

He ignored that thought, talking about pancakes and checking his phone to ignore Rachel until he had to leave the room to get away from his own phone. 

He turned on the water and stepped inside, letting the shower soak into his skin.

Maybe if he drowned, he wouldn't have to deal with anything else.

***

As they worked the case, one part of Steve's brain was still back on the conversation with Danny. Danny was lying to Melissa about texts from Rachel. While Steve understood the motive--trying to keep Melissa close--he knew Danny was well aware lying didn't get a relationship anywhere.

It didn't mean anything. Just because Danny avoided telling Melissa until he knew what was going on, it didn't mean there was anything wrong with their relationship. There was no reason to get his hopes up. At all.

Especially not when a short time later Danny started trying to fix him up with one of Melissa's friends. 

Because that's just what Steve needed. Next thing you know, Danny would be suggesting double dating, and Steve would have to shoot himself just to get out of the whole situation. 

Even after Danny left to go talk to Rachel, Steve couldn't quite put the whole thing out of his mind, though. Not to mention that Rachel and news tended to be more of the bombshell variety, the kind that left nothing but destruction in its wake. 

When Steve's phone rang with Danny's picture on the screen, Steve prepared for whatever bomb was about to blow up in their faces. But all Danny said was to meet him at what Steve had dubbed Danny's Thinking Spot. 

Steve broke several traffic laws--all of HPD knew his truck by now anyway--getting there. Danny was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge, reminiscent of his first day back after Matt's funeral, and Steve wondered what could be as bad as that.

"Hey," Steve said, as he reached the wall and sat down, his back to the ocean. "What's up?"

Danny's laugh hurt Steve's ears. "What's up?" Danny nodded like it had been a yes or no question. "Rachel," he said slowly, pausing for a deep breath, "called me to a park where she was watching Charlie play to tell me..." Danny swallowed, looking out at the ocean, "to tell me that Charlie's mine."

Whatever Steve had been refusing to let out of the back of his mind as a possibility, this wasn't it. "What?"

Danny met Steve's eyes, and Steve almost wished he hadn't when he saw the pain there. "Charlie is my son," Danny said, still in that slow, deliberate way that had Steve worried. "And Rachel has known the whole time. She wasn't further along than she thought back then. She just decided to go with the safer bet and lie to me and to Stan for years."

Which begged the question of why tell him now. "Man, I'm sorry, Danny," Steve said, the words heartfelt. Because Danny didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of the bullshit that seemed determined to try to fuck up his life. "Why'd she change her mind?"

"It sure as hell wasn't some desire to come clean," Danny said, his tone as painful as his laugh had been. "No, Charlie's sick. He needs a bone marrow transplant, and when they ran out of options, she decided to tell the truth." 

Danny laughed again, and Steve had to clasp his hands together to keep from reaching out to try to comfort him. "So," Danny continued, "I've got a son. Grace's brother is actually her brother, her whole brother, and all this time Rachel has just been lying about it."

Steve shared Danny's obvious anger about that one. Rachel knew better than just about anyone what family meant to Danny, what kids meant to him. To deny him his son was like punishing Danny for being exactly who he was, despite all Rachel's best efforts to turn him into something else.

"Do you know how many times that I have dropped Grace off," Danny said, "do you know how many times I've picked her up and that kid's been sitting in the room? Rachel, too, sitting there?"

Yeah, Steve shared the anger all right, but Danny needed him to be something else. He needed a level head. "Danny, no matter how misguided this was--"

"Please, don't. Do not say anything that sticks up for this woman, okay? What she did is unforgivable, and that is the bottom line. And because of what she did, I missed out three years of this kid's life, huh? What about that?"

But not his birth, Steve thought, though this was the wrong time to bring that up. "So what happens now?"

"Now? Now, I take care of the kid," Danny said. "Rachel, I don't know what I'm gonna do. No way I can get past this."

Steve wasn't so sure. Danny was a forgiving guy, and it was hard not to forgive someone who'd given you two kids. Then again, it was hard to forgive someone who'd taken one away, even for a short time. "You're right, man."

"I know I'm right. Thank you."

"Do me a favor. Listen to me for a second, all right? " Steve said, because this was what Danny needed, why he'd called Steve in the first place. "These feelings that you're having ,this anger? You gotta put it aside, that's all I'm saying. How many decisions are you guys gonna have to make from here on in? And you and Rachel, you gotta make the decisions together. It's not gonna do Charlie any good having his parents fighting. That's all I'm trying to say."

"I know that. You're right."

Steve's phone rang, the case dragging them back to reality, and people who'd lost their kids forever. "We have a lead," Steve said. "You good?"

Danny huffed. "Yeah, I'm good," he said, swinging his legs around and standing up. "Let's go."

***

Danny's phone sounded, the appointment reminder glaring up at him. He silenced it, swiping at the reminder with more force than necessary. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Charlie--he absolutely did. And he wanted nothing more than to help him. He was just having some trouble coming to terms with it all.

He had a son. Charlie was his son. That baby he'd seen born, the one he'd taken the first picture of...it had been his all along.

So yeah, he wanted to see Charlie. He just needed to do it without making a scene with Rachel.

Danny picked up his phone and flipped back through his pictures, finding the one of Charlie, hours old in the nursery. He'd blamed the fact that he didn't even understood how the cloud worked for it never being deleted, for it magically showing up on every phone he got, but he wondered now if somehow, some way, deep in the back of his mind he'd suspected all this time. 

And if he did, what did that make him?

A soft knock at the door made him look up. Steve was standing there, his expression making it obvious what he was about to say. "Hey, you want some company at the hospital?"

He did, he really did. But he'd made himself a promise not to rely too heavily on Steve, even if he'd had to go back on it a bit for this. Because this was more than he could get through entirely on his own.

The hospital visit, though, he could. 

"No, thanks. I appreciate it, but...I think I gotta do this alone."

"You sure?" Steve asked. "I mean, I know how you are about needles."

Danny laughed softly. "You're hilarious."

Steve's smile faded a little. "Let me know if I can do anything, all right?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah," he said, pushing out of his chair. "I'll be back after, okay?"

"Yeah."

***

Danny gave himself a pep talk on the way to the hospital, the voice in his head (that absolutely was not Steve's, he told himself, no matter how much it sounded like Steve) reminding him that Rachel had her reasons. Stupid, selfish, ridiculous reasons, but reasons nonetheless.

He didn't have to forgive her, but he had to at least be civil, especially in front of a scared kid. _His_ scared kid. 

Fuck.

The hospital was a lot closer than he'd realized--either that, or he'd been a lot more lost in his own head. But he pulled up and parked, hearing his phone beep as he got out of the car. 

Just one message from Steve, _Hang in there buddy_.

It was enough to calm Danny's brain, to get him in a head space to be civil as he walked in and saw Rachel waiting. It was awkward, he recognized that, but he didn't bite her head off, so he counted it as a win. 

Then he sat down next to Charlie, bonding over a rescue truck, looking at his son and seeing likenesses, wondering how he'd missed it all this time. So much time--three whole years he'd missed. And now, with him sick, who knew what might happen?

But no, he wasn't going to think that way. He was here, and he was going to make sure that he had a long time to make up for what he'd missed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left to go...


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's complete! Huge, huge thank yous to all the people who've read and commented and kept me going here and on Twitter when I wasn't sure I'd be able to write, and to the friends who've listened to me as I tried to figure out WTF to write throughout the last few months. Thank you all!! Enjoy the end of the ride! :)

Danny frowned as he pulled up to Steve's house, sliding the Camaro into place next to a familiar blue Corvette. Steve was out the door in a hurry, before Danny was even out of the car, jogging over to get behind the driver's seat. 

By the time Danny closed the door on the passenger side, Steve was buckled in. Danny was still putting his seat belt on when Steve backed out, slid the car around and shot out towards the main road.

"So," Danny said, glancing over his shoulder before focusing on Steve's profile, "I didn't know Catherine was back."

Steve glanced at him. "We doing this now? Really?"

"Doing what?" Danny asked. "Catherine's car was in front of your house and you hadn't even mentioned she was here."

"She just showed up like thirty seconds before I got the call about the case, Danny. What was I supposed to do, send you a text alert the second she walked in the door?"

Danny's shrug was exaggerated. "You could've told me she was coming."

"I could have," Steve said, and Danny didn't notice the way his lips thinned out, "if I'd known."

 _Wait, what?_ "You didn't know she was coming?" he asked. "She just showed up at your door?"

"My back yard, actually," Steve said, lips so tight that they were getting white around the edges. "I mean, Kono mentioned she'd been invited, but...."

"But?"

Steve shook his head on a sigh. "But nothing." 

"Okay, let me finish that sentence for you. But you didn't expect her to just blow back in with no thought for your feelings the same way she just walked right out a year ago?"

"She didn't walk out, Danny. She left to help people in need."

 _No, she dragged you off to the middle of a war zone and got you captured and then left me to pick up the pieces._ But a year later he still couldn't say that. "But she still left." 

Steve sighed again before glancing in Danny's direction a little longer. "How are you doing?"

Normally Danny would keep pushing, but maybe this was a good chance to lead by example, by opening up himself. "I'm...I don't know. Still trying to wrap my head around everything." 

"Any word on the blood test?" 

"Not yet. Should hear by the end of the day." 

"Talked to Melissa yet?"

Then again, maybe this wasn't the best example ever. "I haven't had a chance."

He knew it was thin. He could tell Steve knew it was thin. But Steve just changed the subject.

Looked like Danny wasn't the only one trying to lead by example.

***

Steve had barely ended the phone call with Catherine when Danny started. "So, how long's she staying?"

"We didn't discuss that," Steve said, watching the road with more care than it probably needed. 

"Uh-huh." Steve knew that tone, and that was not a good tone. "Was her suitcase big, or was it small?"

"It was medium."

"Medium." Great, repeating Danny. Also not good. "Is she staying with you, or is she staying at a hotel while she's here?"

"We didn't discuss that either," Steve said shortly. "Anything else?"

After a moment, Danny said, "Look, I like Catherine very much, okay? I'm just not too happy about the way that she left things, and now she comes back without so much as a phone call, I think that for you it would be good to find out what her plans are, so she doesn't, y'know, rip your heart out again, that's all."

"Well, she didn't rip my heart out, Danny." She couldn't, not when he'd realized she didn't have it, but he couldn't exactly say that to Danny. "She went to do what she thought was right."

"Right, she left you for a bunch of strangers."

Danny's protectiveness warmed Steve's heart, he just wished it was for other reasons than friendship. "She went to help people in need, but like I said before, Danny, I don't expect you to understand that."

"Oh, because I don't help people in need? It's what I do for a living, I do it every day, I just wouldn't walk over my family members to do it."

Which was true, but. "That's a little over dramatic, even for you."

"Really? 'Cause I was gonna say something a lot worse, I just didn't wanna hurt your feelings." 

"Hey, hold on, hold on. I just had an idea. Why don't we talk about your relationship. You lied to your girlfriend, right? Huh? When are you gonna talk to her about that?" Because Steve really wanted to know the outcome of that conversation. Just how forgiving was Am--Melissa anyway? 

"Wow, okay. Well, I suppose I will talk to her when the time is right."

Which wasn't want Steve wanted to hear, but it was a good out for this conversation. "There you go. Now that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna talk to Catherine when the time is right."

"Okay. "

***

Catherine was waiting for him.

Which, of course, in retrospect, Steve should have expected. Where else was she going to go? She'd showed up, suitcase in hand, clearly planning to stay at his house. 

"Any word on Hadad?" she asked, putting down the magazine she'd been reading and standing up from the couch, smoothing her hands down over her pants. 

Steve shook his head. "You?"

"Nothing new." She bit her lip. "Listen, I didn't mean to presume by just showing up. I can go to a hotel."

"It's fine," Steve said, waving a hand. "I have spare rooms. Stay."

Her frown was so quick he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it before a smile took its place. "Thank you."

"Of course." Steve checked his phone, but there was nothing from Danny. Steve wondered if Danny had called Rachel, if there was any word on whether or not Charlie was a match. It might be overkill if Steve texted just to ask, though. If Danny didn't know yet, he might not want to be reminded. 

"Steve?"

Steve started. "Sorry, what?"

Catherine studied him for a moment. "Nothing," she said at last, her shoulders slumping just a little. "I'm going to go get some sleep. Good night."

"Gracie's stuff is in the upstairs room," Steve said, "but the downstairs one is free. Good night."

He checked his phone again as she walked away. 

***

Danny wasn't exactly staring at his phone, but it was in his hand when Rachel called. "Hello?" he said on the first ring.

"Danny?"

Like someone else would be answering his phone? "Yeah."

"Hi, it's Rachel."

"Yes, I know. What's up?"

There was a slight pause. "I've heard from the doctors," she said, after a moment. "They want you to do the transfer."

Danny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. When?"

"Next week," Rachel said. "Danny...thank you."

"Like I'd do anything else?" Danny snapped. "What have I ever done that would make you think I wouldn't give my life for my kids, Rachel?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I just...I didn't know how you'd feel after I kept the truth from you."

"Unlike some people," Danny gritted out through his teeth, "I don't feel the need to punish my children for who their other parent is."

It was a low blow, and he knew it, but he also kind of thought maybe she deserved it. 

"I'm sorry," she said, and yeah, he'd heard that before. "I just thought...I thought it was safer."

"What you _think_ is safer doesn't make it right."

Rachel sighed. "I know, and I am sorry. But I can't go back and change it now. And I do appreciate what you're doing."

"Like I'd do anything else for my kid, even if I've only known he's mine for like half a second?"

" Your dedication to your children has never been in question, Danny. I just...I know what it's like, sitting there waiting for word every time you hear a siren." He heard the pain in her voice, but he wasn't giving in that easily. "Waiting for someone to call and tell me you're gone. I wanted to spare at least one child that. I'm sorry."

"Look, Rachel...." Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was an old argument and it never went anywhere. "I have to go. I'll pick up Grace for the wedding tomorrow." 

Her goodbye was cut off as he ended the call, his mind on Adam at Kono's bedside, holding on tightly. On Steve in the back of a truck in North Korea, being carried in unconscious on a stretcher in Jalalabad. On how he'd used that as an excuse to avoid his feelings for Steve. How he'd stayed with Melissa because she was safer. 

Maybe the real reason he and Rachel had never worked was because they were too much alike.

No, he hadn't done anything like keep someone's child from them, but he'd certainly held himself back out of...out of what? Fear? Not of danger, certainly. But of being hurt? That was a different story. 

All these months, Danny had thought Steve was his security blanket. He realized now that he'd had it backwards this whole time. He'd been clinging to this thing with Melissa, telling himself he was being adult and smart, doing what was right. But now he realized that maybe, just maybe, he'd been using Melissa to keep him from the scarier, more risky option.

Steve.

Steve was not what anyone would consider a sure thing or a safe bet. He made active volcanoes look safe. And the only thing you could be sure of with Steve was that he would do something insane. 

Which was what made him scary. Exciting. But definitely scary. 

And dangerous. The chance that Danny would be blown to bits had increased drastically the moment Steve had decided to conscript Danny. And Danny could handle the professional danger. 

But could he handle the possibility of losing Steve if he and Danny were...more.

His heart sunk as he realized that wasn't the question. It was too late to lower the impact if something happened to Steve--just the mere thought of it was enough to make Danny feel like he would throw up.

He could ignore this thing between him and Steve all he wanted--it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. If something happened to Steve....

Danny couldn't contemplate the idea.

Which begged the question--why was he ignoring it, if the damage was already done?

His own blindness aside, the obvious answer popped into his head easily--Catherine. Her reappearance when Danny was just now getting his head out of his ass was unfortunate. 

Steve didn't seem to mind that she was back. Didn't even seem to mind that she came to his house like she'd just been away for the weekend and expected to jump right back into his life. Into his bed.

He had a sudden image of Steve and Catherine in Steve's bed, where they might very well be right that second, and that nausea came back again. 

Surely Steve wouldn't just jump into bed with her the first night back after she'd more or less left him for dead a year ago. Danny had to believe that whatever had been going on between him and Steve, it would at least give Steve pause.

Because if it didn't....

But no. It did. It had to. 

He'd just have to wait until tomorrow to try to find out if he was right.

***

Of course all Steve was worried about was Hadad.

Danny's amount of sleep had been almost non-existent, wondering about Steve, and all he could get from Steve was that he was still concerned about Hadad. 

"Look, we pinged his cell phone," Danny said. "Last signal we got was three miles out. That was yesterday. Navy did a grid search. The guy is gone, Steve."

Steve, of course, didn't accept it. 

"Every intelligence agency on planet Earth is looking for this guy, okay?" Danny said. "And when they find him, we will have our moment with him, all right?

"Yeah."

Steve didn't sound convinced, and Danny needed him to let that go so Danny could start navigating the landmines of Steve and Catherine. "Can we just, can we just take this time right now, to be happy about something? The fact that we got Bennett and his crew. Can we take that win?"

"Yeah."

Okay, so that landmine navigation would have to wait until after the wedding, clearly. "Let's take the win. Yeah? Okay, good. I'm gonna go get Grace. She's getting ready over at Rachel's. I'll see you at the wedding."

"Hey, listen," Steve said, "if things are weird with you and Rachel, let me go get Grace. It's not a problem."

Oh, sure, Danny's issues with his ex-wife were enough to distract Steve from Hadad. Was that good? Danny couldn't even tell. "No, no, no. Nothing," Danny said. "Nothing's weird. It's fine."

"You're lying."

Duh? "Yes, I'm lying to you, okay? She lied to me and didn't tell me I had a son. I don't think that I will be forgiving her anytime soon." Danny sighed. "But I got Grace to worry about, and don't want her to see us arguing. She went through that before we got divorced, and I don't want to put her through it again." Which was true enough, and a reminder of why relationships were a bad idea when you cared this much

"Hey, listen... speaking of your son...how is Charlie? How's he doing? What are the doctors saying?"

And that careful question reminded Danny why it didn't matter whether this was a bad idea. "I'm the better match for the bone marrow," he said slowly. "Procedure's gonna next week. And, uh, the doctors are saying good things. They're optimistic."

"Well, that's great news, man."

"Yeah." Danny was still wrapping his head around that, too. "I'm making Rachel tell him that I'm his father. I'm sticking to that.

"I'm proud of you, Danny."

The words absolutely did not send a warm glow through Danny. "Proud of me? I'm not doing anything. Look, I got the easy part. I go in there, I'm in and out in a couple hours. This kid's got, uh, some kind of recovery, you know? I'd trade places with him in two seconds."

And he would--that kind of risk would be nothing. This, on the other hand....

Catherine's arrival cut through Danny's thoughts like a sharp sword, aided by the way Steve was staring at her. Danny made an excuse and took off as quickly as he could.

He'd rather deal with Rachel than this.

***

Steve was literally standing at the wedding before his brain caught up with the fact that he was standing at the wedding. 

The morning had been a blur, starting with Danny all dressed up, then Catherine throwing him for a loop, then the huge mess with the nuke that ended with both him and Danny being fish food.

For all that he'd told Danny he was going home, that he couldn't die now that he had two kids, Steve hadn't been all that sure. And now here they were, at Kono and Adam's wedding, like nothing had happened. Danny with Grace--though not, Steve had noticed, with Am--Melissa--and Steve...well, Steve with Catherine hanging on his arm. 

Which was, in some ways, weirder than having just dumped a nuke in the ocean.

"I missed you," Catherine said.

"I missed you, too," Steve replied automatically. And it was true. He had missed her once. Back when she'd first gone, when she'd first told him she wasn't coming back. It was like leaving the Navy all over again, like something had been there, solid and reliable, and then it had gone. 

But just like when he'd left the Navy, he had his team there instead. Had Danny there instead. More reliable than the Navy, and far more honest, if Steve was being honest himself.

He'd gotten over missing Catherine. 

Danny...Danny he missed even when he hadn't really left. 

***

Danny still watching Kono's artfully decorated Cruze disappear--he swore he'd find one of Adam's cars to plaster with shaving cream before they got back from vacation--when Chin tapped him on the shoulder. "We need to talk."

He followed Chin over to where Steve stood, looking out over the ocean. Steve turned as they stopped next to him, though, giving Danny a smile that made him forget all the things that sucked right now for a second. 

Until Chin said, "Gabriel was out front when I went to get the rings."

"What?" Danny said, hearing Steve's voice echoing the word. 

"He wants to stay, so he offered us a deal," Chin said, his voice even, but Danny could almost see the anger beneath it. "He'd cut us in if we look the other way on his crimes."

Danny blinked. "He can shove his deal up his--"

"He had to know that wouldn't work," Steve said, cutting Danny off. "He offered you twenty million not to take him in and that didn't work."

"I also took money from him when I needed it," Chin said.

"When _I_ needed it," Danny reminded him.

Chin shrugged as if there wasn't any difference. "I didn't want to ruin Kono's wedding, so I had HPD put out an APB on him and came back. But now that she's safely out of here...."

"Now that who is safely out of here?" Catherine asked. Danny hadn't even noticed her walk up, but he didn't miss the way she slid her arm through Steve's. 

Chin gave her the short version. "We need to go find him," he finished.

"Of course," Catherine said. "Can I help?"

"You can," Danny said, before Steve could drag her into this case. "Would you mind taking Grace to Rachel's for me? We can't afford to lose any more time."

Catherine glanced at Steve, but then she nodded. "Of course. Let me know if I can do anything else to help."

Somehow he thought telling her to get back on a plane wouldn't be the best move.

***

Steve walked slowly up to the house, pushing the door open as if it weighed a ton. He dropped his keys on the nearest table, rubbing at his neck.

"Did you find him?" Catherine asked, getting off the couch to meet him by the door. 

Steve shook his head. "No. We have some feelers out, but we thought we might do better after some sleep." Well, that and he knew if he didn't go home, Danny wouldn't either. And Danny needed to get as much rest as he could leading up to his procedure, so Steve wasn't about to let him stay up all night. 

"You'll find him," Catherine said. "You always do."

Yes, he did, but at what cost? He nodded, though, giving her a tight smile, because he knew that was what she was expecting, but his mind was elsewhere--a few miles away, to be exact, at Danny's--so he could be forgiven for missing what was coming until her lips were on his. 

He'd thought the kiss earlier had just been relief, that of a friend, someone who cared, expressing happiness that he was okay. But this kiss was more of the 'let's move this upstairs' variety. He held himself still, not exactly pushing her away, but not inviting her to continue.

After a few seconds, she stepped back, eyeing him with a frown. "I thought you missed me," she said after a moment. "I thought we were on the same page."

"I did miss you," Steve said, gentling his words, even though part of him wanted to be harsh, wanted to have the same anger that Danny had shown. _You didn't expect her to just blow back in with no thought for your feelings the same way she just walked right out a year ago?_ "But I got over it," Steve said. "I'll always love you...but I'm not in love with you, Catherine. I'm sorry."

He was starting to realize that maybe he never had been in love. Maybe the real reason he couldn't commit wasn't just his issues, but that she wasn't the right one to get through his issues for. Because Danny...for him, Steve could get through his issues. 

Assuming Danny felt the same. 

"Yeah," Catherine said at last, her eyes shining, her lips pressing together for a moment before she continued. "Sometimes you can't go back, right?"

 _Especially if you really didn't have anything to go back to._ "Yeah."

"Speaking of going back," she said, and Steve ignored the little sniff that came after, "there's a flight early in the morning I can catch if I get my stuff and get out to the airport early. Unless...do you want some help finding Gabriel? I mean, you're a man down...."

"No, thanks," Steve said, because there was no point in prolonging things. And they had plenty of resources on the island. "I appreciate it, but I know you need to get back. You should make your flight."

"Right." She nodded, raising her hand and patting him on the arm awkwardly. "I'll just go pack up."

***

Danny pulled into the drive at his house, carefully not thinking about the fact that Catherine's car had been sitting there when he'd dropped Steve off. He'd been actively not thinking about it ever since he'd left Steve's. 

It wasn't like he hadn't known she would be there--he certainly hadn't expected her to just hang out at Rachel's all evening or something. But it had been a reminder that he'd maybe screwed up. He'd maybe been just a little too late in realizing that he was a moron, and that any chance he might've had with Steve could be gone now. 

Danny walked into the house to find Melissa sitting on the couch, waiting for him. "Hey," she said, smiling at him. It was a gorgeous smile, and it still warmed him to have it directed at him. But he'd finally realized the difference, how it was the smile of a pretty girl who was interested in him. It flattered him, made him feel attractive.

And he'd forget it even existed every time Steve smiled in his direction. 

"Sorry I missed the wedding," she said, even though she'd apologized profusely on the phone. "There was just nothing I could do. Work--"

"I know," Danny said, sitting down on the couch beside her. "It's okay." And it had been, because with Steve there, he wouldn't have given Melissa the attention she deserved anyway.

Whether or not he'd lost his chance with Steve, it wasn't fair to keep this going with Melissa. She deserved someone who loved her completely, not someone who was with her because she was the safer choice.

He was not Rachel, and hoped to God he never would be. 

"Listen," Danny said, pausing for a deep breath before he continued. "There's something I have to tell you."

He told her about the texts from Rachel, and about Charlie and the transplant. When he was finished, she was staring at him as if he was Superman. "You're an amazing person, Danny."

He really, really wasn't. "Well, thank you for saying that, especially in light of the fact that I've been hiding this from you."

"I knew," she said. "I mean, not about Charlie, but I knew about the texts. But," she said, her hands resting on his forearms, "I trust you. And I knew whatever it was, you'd tell me when you were ready."

She trusted him. Wasn't that just the ironic kick in the ass in the middle of all of this. "Look," Danny said, sliding his arms until his hands held hers. "There's a lot going on right now, and...I can't really focus on a relationship. I just found out I have a son, and he's sick, and...I need all my focus to be on him."

It was the truth, but it wasn't the whole truth. He couldn't bring himself to tell her he'd fallen for someone else, though. She'd had enough hits in life without that, too. He'd rather live with the guilt of a small lie than cause her more pain. 

"I understand," she said. "But when you get things straight...look me up?"

Shit. He couldn't string her on. "Melissa...you put your life on hold for a long time for that scumbag you were married to. Don't waste any more of it. You came here for a new start. Go find it."

He saw the flash of something, knew she'd figured out there was more. "Is it...." Her mouth thinned, and she cleared her throat before she could go on. "Is it Rachel? Are you getting back together?"

"God, no!" The words burst out of him before he could even think, and he saw her relax a little. "She lied to me about my son for years. If he hadn't gotten sick I'd probably never have known. I would never--could never...."

She nodded. "But there's someone, isn't there?"

He wasn't that good of a liar. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I didn't mean for there to be. I didn't even think there was. But...."

She shrugged, suddenly looking older than her years--hell, older than him. "It's okay," she said. "It happens."

"I never wanted to hurt you," Danny said.

"I know. And that makes it a little easier."

A little. It was better than nothing. "I am sorry," he said again. 

"I know." She gave him a watery smile. "Me, too." She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm gonna go. Tell Grace...tell her I love her, okay?"

Danny closed his eyes, fighting back the thought of Grace's face when he had to tell her that he and Melissa were over. "I will. I know she loves you, too."

He opened his eyes to see her still smiling. "I'll see you around, Jersey."

He could only nod as she got up and left the house. It wasn't until he heard her car drive away that he got up and went to the kitchen, opening up the fridge to find that there was no beer. 

"Great. Just great."

His phone buzzed, and Danny fished it out of his pocket to find one message from Steve. _Cath left._

Danny stared at the message for a few seconds before pocketing his phone and pulling out his keys instead. 

If nothing else, Steve always had beer. 

***

Steve was on the couch, staring at a dark TV, when he heard the car. He'd know the sound of Danny's Camaro in his sleep. Steve turned on the TV and flipped over to ESPN, dropping the remote as Danny walked in the door.

"Hey," Steve said, standing up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you come over. I mean, I know you wanted to know when Catherine was leaving, so...." Steve shrugged. "She left."

"I know. I can read."

"It's okay, though, I'm fine," Steve said. "You can go back to Melissa. I can go back to watching the game."

Danny looked over Steve's shoulder at the TV, then back at Steve. "Since when are you into snooker?"

Steve glanced over his shoulder to see Danny wasn't kidding. "It was baseball," Steve said, but even to his own ears it sounded like a lie.

Danny studied him for a long moment. "How did you know I was with Melissa?"

 _Because I can smell her perfume._ Steve thought maybe that was the wrong answer, though. "I just assumed once she got off work she'd come over."

Danny nodded. "She did," he said, stepping closer, and Steve forced himself to stand his ground as Danny brushed past him, unnecessarily close, their arms touching, on the way to the couch. "Nice of you to have the beer already out," Danny said, nodding at the six pack of Longboards on the table. 

He took one before he sat down, opening it and taking a long drink before looking at Steve again. "Steven," Danny said, nodding at the spot beside him on the couch. "Sit down."

Steve did as he was told, sitting as far away as he could, given he was on the same couch. "Really, Danny," Steve stopped to clear his throat, "I'm fine."

"Maybe, but I am out of beer," Danny said. "So I thought since Catherine was gone--back to those people in need halfway across the world, I presume?" At Steve's nod, Danny continued. "And since I seem to be single, and without beer, I thought maybe I would come drink some of yours."

Steve recognized that look in Danny's eyes. Over the months his body had learned to respond to that look, the one that promised all the things Steve longed for and nothing he'd be allowed to keep. Danny was just looking for distraction, and when it was over, when the next Rachel or Gabby or Amelissa came along, Danny's extra-curricular activities with Steve would no longer be required. 

He should stop this now.

"Or maybe," Danny said, his voice dark, laced with something that had Steve half hard in a second, "I should forget the beer."

The hell with stopping. Steve would take what he could get and live on the memories later. Wasn't like he wasn't used to that--most of his life had been based on it. 

He took the beer out of Danny's hand, setting it on the table before slowly sliding one leg over Danny's, straddling his lap, but giving him a chance to protest, just in case Steve had misread the situation.

Danny's hands moving their way up Steve's thighs to grab his ass told him he hadn't misread a thing. 

Steve's hands went to Danny's buttons, undoing his shirt as quickly as he could, as Danny's hands made their way up Steve's back, under his shirt. Steve broke the kiss to pull the shirt over his head, tossing it aside and looking down at Danny, lips red and wet, eyes searching Steve's like there were hidden answers, if only he looked hard enough. 

What might Danny find if he kept looking? Would he figure out that this wasn't just for fun, that it was more than a distraction? Maybe it was better to stop now, to tell the truth, and let Danny figure out what he wanted to do with it, rather than to lead him on. 

Steve wet his lips, watched as Danny's eyes fixated on them. _Fuck._ "Danny..." Steve took a deep breath. "I can't."

"What?"

Steve slid off to the side, propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. "I can't do this."

There was a long silence beside him before Danny said, "I thought Catherine was gone."

"She is. I told her to go because...." _Man up, McGarrett--the least he deserves is the truth._ Steve raised his head, meeting Danny's eyes. "I told her to go because I wasn't in love with her," Steve said slowly. "Because she wasn't the one I was thinking about all the time, the one who I wanted there when sleep wouldn't come. Because I didn't miss her anymore when she was halfway around the world, but I missed..." 

He took another breath. "I missed you when you were just down the street or out getting coffee, or in the other room. It's not her, Danny, it never really was--it's been you for ages and I just didn't know. And I can't be...this," Steve said, waving a hand between them, "a distraction, or whatever this is. Not anymore." 

Steve's lungs felt like they'd turned to stone, unable to move, until a small smile landed on Danny's face. "You're a goof, you know that?" Danny said, the fondness in his tone loosening the rest of the hold on Steve's lungs, letting him breathe again. "Who was I calling for months, leaving my girlfriend's arms to get you to talk me off a ledge, staying with you so we could both sleep?" 

"That's just who we are, though."

"Yeah, it is," Danny said. "No matter how much we try to be other people, we are who we are, Steven. And it's why we fit. Neither one of us wants to change the other. Well," Danny said, with a tilt of his head, "okay, I might like to drum a _little_ of the crazy out of you, but I accepted long ago that it comes with that heart," Danny put his hand over the middle of Steve's chest, "that makes you the most amazing person I know."

"So..." Steve said carefully, because, landmines, everywhere, and if he stepped on the wrong one this would blow up in their faces, "are you saying....?"

"Steven, for weeks I've been getting up and going to the couch and turning on an ocean sounds app on my phone to sleep."

Steve blinked. "So you miss the ocean?" he asked, frowning. "Is that why you're here?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "You're lucky the fact that you're an idiot about a few things just makes you that much more adorable," he said. "I did not miss the ocean. I will never miss the ocean. But the sound was the closest thing to being here, to falling asleep in your bed. With you."

"Oh."

"Oh, he says." Danny's tone was a heady mix of sarcasm, amusement and something else that made Steve move closer. "That's all you have to say is 'oh'?"

Steve shrugged. He didn't know what else to say, didn't have words for anything like this. Was, in fact, afraid that any words he did say might ruin it. Still, he supposed he had to say something. "Danny...."

"Yes, Steven."

God, he loved the way Danny said that. "Would you like to sleep in my bed, then?"

"I'd like to do a lot more than sleep," Danny said, pulling Steve in by the t-shirt for a kiss. 

At the touch of their lips, Steve actually started to believe this was real, that it was actually happening. He leaned in, tongue sliding into Danny's mouth, hand slipping down to Danny's dick.

"Hang on," Danny said against Steve's lips, stopping Steve's hand. 

"What?" Had he gone too far? Had Danny changed his mind?

Danny shook his head. "Would you get that scared puppy look off your face? I stopped you because, as wonderful as this all is, I'd really rather be naked in your bed before we go any further." 

It took Steve's brain a second to catch up, but when it did, he could swear the smile nearly broke his face in half. "Naked in my bed," he said. "I like the sound of that."

"Come on." Danny stood, pulling Steve to his feet, not letting go of his hand as he headed for the stairs. 

It wasn't until they reached Steve's bed that he stopped, forcing Danny to stop along with him. "Danny...are you sure about this?"

Danny turned to face him, eyes barely visible in the moonlight. "I'm sure," he said quietly. 

"But...how?"

Steve wasn't even sure what he was asking, but Danny understood, as always. "When I realized that I'd been doing the same thing as Rachel," Danny said, his voice low, "that I'd been avoiding this because I was afraid of losing you...." Danny sighed. "If I never saw you again, never even heard your name until someone came to tell me you'd died in thirty years...a part of me would die with you anyway," he said. "You can't get more sure than that, babe."

"Oh." It made about as much sense as the question, but it made all the sense in the world to Steve. 

"Again with the 'oh.'" Danny's knee nudged Steve's. "I know you're a Neanderthal, but I also know you have more vocabulary than that."

"Danny, why do you think I wouldn't let you go from day one?" Steve said. "I've always been sure about you. It's me I wasn't sure of."

"And now?"

Steve smiled, ducking his head until their lips were almost touching. "I'm sure," he said into a kiss.

\---  
END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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